Incubi
by xxkattiaxx
Summary: A realization struck Lucius Malfoy as he studied his long time friend: a man will only crave that which he cannot have. Truly, it is only when the object of his desire has moved well beyond his grasp that a man recognizes his need for what it is and will then move Heaven and Earth to reclaim it. A novel filled with romance and adventure. Post Hogwarts. AU. SSXHGXLM
1. The Price of Good Intel

_**Incubi**_

**Summary**_**:**_ A realization struck Lucius Malfoy as he studied his long time friend: a man will only crave that which he cannot have. Truly, it is only when the object of desire has moved well beyond his grasp that a man recognizes his need for what it is and then will move Heaven and Earth to reclaim it. A novella filled with romance and humor. SSXHGXLM

**Rating**_**:**_ Strict 'M'. You have been warned.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters, I'm just borrowing them for a little bitty while. And I promise to give them back to JKR when I'm done, slightly soiled but hopefully none too worse for wear.

_**DGM**_

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_**Ch. 1— The Price of Good Intel**_

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A realization struck Lucius Malfoy while he studied his long time friend: a man will only crave that which he cannot have. Truly, it is only when the object of desire has moved well beyond his grasp that a man recognizes his need for what it is and then will move Heaven and Earth to reclaim it.

And currently, the subject of this revealing insight was worrying a hole in Lucius's aubusson rug.

"Will you stop your pacing? I swear you're wearing a path straight to hell!" Lucius studied the rug thoughtfully, trying to decide whether or not this would be a bad thing. "Hmm, better yet, go ahead. Hecate knows I don't want to look at it anymore; I believe that was Narcissa's last purchase for this room, and as such... to hell with it."

A swish of his wand and the offending rug was banished right out from under the feet of one Severus Snape. To his credit, Severus stumbled only slightly, turned and narrowed his dark eyes at the blond gentleman currently lounging casually on the settee.

Lucius only shrugged and waved his hand as if to say, _As you were._

After giving him a long, measured look, Severus fumed, "I cannot believe she would do this. Just up and disappear without a by-your-leave for a week—A WEEK, mind you!" He ran his hand through his disheveled hair to emphasize his point. "Does she not realize how much this will set our research back? Of course not! Irresponsible bit of baggage that she is. She doesn't give two damns for the trouble she's caused me—us!"

Lucius held up his hand at that. "Now, now Severus. You must be fair. Ms. Granger did ask you weeks ago if she could have leave, and as I remember it, you agreed to it."

"AGREED?!" Snape huffed in outrage as his frenetic pacing resumed. "I most certainly did not agree to this travesty—"

Again, the blond man on the settee raised one long, manicured finger, "You most certainly did. I was there. Ms. Granger, in point of fact, had me there for this express purpose because she knew you would forget. As you always conveniently do when she wants to take leave." He smiled blandly. "You know, it is a shame, truly, that she was made a Gryffindor. The unfortunate circumstance of her birth aside, she would have made a brilliantly cunning Slytherin." He toyed with the rim of his glass, making the fine crystal hum slightly as he thought of the possibilities had Miss Granger been chosen for that most noble and esteemed tradition of Slytherin house.

But his smile soon faded as, on second thought, it occurred to him that had she been assigned to Slytherin, or any other bloody house for that matter save Gryffindor, he would most likely be kow-towing to a half-blooded, serpentine would-be god instead of sitting on his settee, drinking a fine port, and watching his brother in arms fall to pieces over the muggle-born witch that had captivated him so.

It was truly a pity the poor, besotted fool had no idea of just how deeply he was in it.

Lucius finished his port in one swallow, and pointing his wand with a steady hand at the decanter, magically filled his glass with two-fingers more.

"Well, regardless of her asking, it still does not negate the fact that she is being irresponsible! A week! A bloody week's leave-taking effective tomorrow. Who does she think she is? We have deadlines to meet! We are running a growing business for fuck's sake!"

Lucius tsked at the profanity. "Ms. Granger made certain to push her part in the trials back a week. Honestly, man! Do you not read your planner? She updates them often enough!"

Severus had the decency to look chagrined, rubbing the back of his neck in what Lucius knew was his time-old expression of _I'm caught out but you can believe I'm not going to fess up to it._ "It still does not negate the fact—"

"What troubles you more?" Lucius interrupted, "The fact that she's going away or the fact that she's going away with her muggle young man?"

Severus grunted. "And that's another thing! A muggle! A MUGGLE! She's dating a bloody, wanking muggle. Not even a wizard!"

"Hmmm, no. You've quite, over the years, intimidated and chased all of _those_ away." Lucius mumbled, not caring if Severus heard him or not.

Severus resumed his pacing more aggressively than ever, his arms now behind his back, his robes catching full billow as his thoughts continued to spin. He suddenly stopped. "And what's more? She wouldn't even let me meet the blaggard. Marc, was it? Mac?"

"Actually, I believe the muggle's name is Mic." Lucius sneered, detesting the diminution. "As in Michael Jessup Fortenbrass the fourth." He watched in satisfaction as Severus looked up questioningly.

Lucius only shrugged. "She is our partner, and I believe in being informed. Just because you couldn't bring your overly large nose out of some tome or another for two seconds to vet the man Ms. Granger has been seeing for four months, does not mean that I didn't."

Raising a solitary eyebrow, Severus asked his friend casually. "And just what is it you've found?"

Lucius smiled, his teeth glimmering in the firelight. "Ah. A want of information, Severus? It's going to cost you..."

Severus rolled his eyes, and spotting his discarded port, picked it up and sipped, the movement calculatedly casual.

"I'm certain I can find out just as much—if not more information than you, Lucius."

Lucius only smiled, this by-play between the two old friends timeless in its dance. How often had they competed for intelligences, ferreting it out for both the dark and the light? Lucius tapped a well-manicured finger to his bottom lip. "Hmm, that depends. It took me two months to find out what I do know, and truthfully, what I do know is not very much considering the man is a muggle. But—" he shrugged, "if you think you can do better in the next twenty-four hours, _mon frère_, well then, be my guest."

Severus's demeanor was blank, but for the almost imperceptible tic of his lower jaw that indicated he was grinding his teeth. Ah, how Lucius did love him! Hard as granite in so many ways, and yet, if one knew just how to look, one could read him as well as any open book to see the emotion inside.

Lucius crossed his feet in front of him and took another casual sip of port.

The next move belonged to Severus.

Severus gave a snort and shook his head. "What is your price?"

Hmm, now this was curious. No dithering back and forth. No by-play. This must mean very much to him, indeed, for him to be acting… well, almost Gryffindorish about the thing. How very curious. Lucius smiled like a shark. "I will tell you everything that I know, and in exchange, I want to come along."

"Come along? What do you mean?"

Lucius only rolled his eyes up to the heavens. "Honestly, man! You cannot seriously have been living under a rock for the last four months, have you?" He began ticking points off his fingers. "The girl is besotted, she has met his parents. And they are going away for a week's vacation to the colonies of all places." He suppressed a delicate shiver. "Do you honestly not see where this is going?"

Severus paled as the full import of Lucius' words struck him.

Lucius nodded. "Yes. The muggle Mic is going to propose to her sometime this next week. And I do believe that our Ms. Granger is sincerely going to take him up on the offer." At Severus' bewildered look Lucius threw up his hands. "Do you not listen to her when she talks? She's spouted off effusive praise about the man for the last month!"

"Exactly! I tune out her blathering. You know I do. It doesn't matter at all who she sees or where she goes as long as her work's good and done. That's all I care about!" Severus was breathing heavily at the end of this little speech, fooling no one, not even himself.

"Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much." Lucius sang softly to himself. He gave Severus a knowing look. "Let us be frank. You've interrupted nine out of the last ten dates Ms. Granger has had with the muggle on grounds of one 'emergency' or another that has come up right before she needs to leave. And the only reason you didn't interrupt the first was because the first was on the day she and the muggle Mic met. And need I not have cause to mention the contingent of wizards you've very 'helpfully' dispatched over the years through your judicious use of legilimency— all to the good in looking out for _her_ benefit of course."

His eyes narrowing in thought, Lucius stated, "Why, it is my personal belief that Ms. Granger is going half-way 'round the world with this muggle Mic to escape _you_ for this reason alone. If ever there was a cockblock, thy name be Severus Snape." And cheering his own turn of phrase, Lucius swirled the remaining amber liquid in his glass and upended it for the second time that evening.

The darker wizard's hands were flexing back and forth reflexively as if he wanted to strangle something…or someone, and Lucius thought he heard a growl. "Well then, tell me, damn you, what it is you do know and be done with it!"

Lucius rose from the settee and made his way over to his brother, placing a confiding hand on his shoulder. Instantly, the darker man stiffened, and Lucius's touch gentled and fell away. His voice softened, "I will tell you all that I know… and confide in you my plan, _if_ you agree to my price, Severus."

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_**A/N:**_ I have now applied a judicious use of foolish wand waving to eliminate excess verbiage and make my prose more clear. I must say, I'm very much satisfied with the result.

As always, reviews are greatly and enthusiastically appreciated.

_**DGM**_


	2. The Price of Airfare

Ch. 2— The Price of Airfare

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"This is ridiculous."

"This is how it is to be done."

"I feel like a tart."

"Well, if it walks like a tart and looks like a tart, then it most definitely is a—"

"Quiet! Here they come!"

Severus adjusted the garish silk kerchief at his neck and primly buttoned up the front of his blouse so that he was covered to the neck.

He heard Lucius give a tsk, and in point of fact, unbutton one of his buttons putting tasteless amounts of décolleté on display for the passengers' enjoyment.

He could not BELIEVE he had agreed to follow the primpy bastard's plan!

It was asinine! It was ludicrous!

The both of them—two grown wizards— posing as airline stewardesses via well-placed confundus charms and polyjuice potion, and all for the express purpose of collecting hair from both Ms. Granger and her escort.

What utter shite!

The fact of the matter was they were on a private chartered flight for the very wealthy, and disgustingly talented muggle Michael Jessup Fortenbrass _the fourth_.

And just how had Lucius come by this little on-dit of information?

The wizard had had the muggle followed by a muggle detective and has been doing so for weeks. Even so, he still knew next to nothing about the man, but what he did know was notably impressive by muggle standards.

It seemed Mr. Fortenbrass the fourth was an MI6 operative and had been so for seven years service to the Queen. He came from one of England's wealthiest muggle families, practically royalty in the eyes of muggle newspapers and ratty tabloids alike. He held a doctorate in something the muggles called Nuclear Physics from the muggle University of Oxford.

And currently, he was holding Ms. Granger's Hand.

Severus's eyes narrowed as he watched them board the plane.

A brown-headed Adonis. That was what the boy was. Tall, statuesque. Definitely prettier than Severus. In fact, the boy could even be prettier than Lucius what with his clean-cut, soldier's build and bearing. He had a square-cut jaw, large and muscular arms, a build that tapered to slim hips, and an easy, care-free attitude that bespoke of health, wealth, and plenty of leisure.

Severus hated him immediately.

For her part, Ms. Granger looked more refined than he was used to seeing her. Obviously, she put forth more of an effort with that rat's nest she called her hair when she had a Michael Jessup Fortenbrass _the Fourth_ to impress.

As it was, her typically frenzied mane was done up in a chignon with artless wisps of curl escaping to frame her heart-shaped face. And if he wasn't mistaken, she was wearing a smidgen of eye coal and lipstick as well.

It suited her nicely.

She had donned muggle clothing—denim jeans that fit her form completely with nary a wrinkle and a snug-fitting jumper that did more to modestly display her charms than Lucius could ever do in the form he currently inhabited as the blond boxom stewardess with almost all of _his_ charms on display.

Severus swallowed thickly as he heard her laugh at something _Mic the Dick_ had said.

Oh, but she never laughed with him. At least, never in that care-free manner that she just now displayed to the interloper. To the _Mic_.

Mic the Dick handled her as if she were spun glass, and Severus snorted knowing quite different. The woman had trounced him more times than he could count, both mentally and physically. A well-placed word here, a charm or hex there, and she always got her way, did she not?

Did she not?!

Severus's eyes narrowed when the boy's hand dipped lower than societal custom would dictate was strictly proper in assisting her, and Severus only just kept himself from casting a well-placed tentaculas curse that would ensure such behavior, indeed, never happened again.

But Ms. Granger only smiled shyly, and shook her head at the boy in gentle censure, and the bastard didn't for a moment look chastised.

"And Hermione, I would like you to meet Linda and Sam. They are the flight attendants for the family Cessna." _Oh, the family Cessna was it now? _Severus felt his jaw click as he ground his teeth together.

"Hello. Very pleased to meet you," said Lucius in high falsetto, almost curtseying in his role as Samantha 'everybody just calls me Sam' the flight attendant. Severus barely refrained from rolling his eyes. He did notice, however, that Mic the Dick's eyes were on the roam and focusing intently on Lucius's/Sam's exposed chest.

The clicking of his jaw intensified. The Mic was ogling another woman! Oh, what a charmer he was! What a catch!

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Linda."

Severus blinked, coming back to himself to see Ms. Granger holding out her hand for him to take. He took it, only just catching himself in time on not drawing it up to his lips. He spoke the word _Likewise_ forgetting to disguise his voice, and he cursed himself his addled wits when she looked at him curiously.

"You know it's crazy," Ms. Granger began, "but with that scowl on your face, and your voice, you remind me of—"

Inwardly, Severus winced. It would be just his luck to be made by Muggle Mic and Ms. Granger when he was dressed in drag and had a vag. He saw out of the corner of his eye Lucius, tapping his high-heeled shoe in impatience.

Ms. Granger shook her head, and laughed lightly, "Well, I guess I'm in more need of a vacation than I thought."

She smiled up at the Interloping Mic, and the bastard took this as his cue to grab her hand (exactly as Severus would have done) and plant a gentle kiss on the palmy flesh. He wrapped her small one in his giant mitt.

"We'll take it easy, sugar. Soon, you'll be so relaxed, you'll wonder how you ever possibly survived that place you call _The Dungeon_. Now come on. I want to show you my cock-pit."

"You know something, I bet you say that to all the girls," she rejoined as he tugged her along. And dear Merlin, was that a dimple on her cheek when she smiled? How could he have failed to notice that in all these years working with her?

The interloper turned back to her and winked, "You know it, sugar. That and you should really see the size of my Sidewinder."

She snorted as she followed him to the nose of the plane.

He turned back to her and explained, "That's a heat-seeking missile for the uninitiated." Turning slightly, Mic the Dick addressed both Lucius and Severus as he said, "Ladies, prep for departure. Wings up in ten. Come on, darlin'. You're flying wingman with me."

Severus watched as his Ms. Granger was escorted to the nose of the little aircraft, and had to visibly count to ten to loosen the tension that had developed in his borrowed body during the couple's exchange.

"Alright, Linda. What do we do?"

Severus looked up, and that's when it occurred to him that they were actually going to have to fly. They were actually going to _FLY in a muggle machine_! The muggle way!

Merlin's Short Hairs!

Eyes narrowed, Severus looked over. There was blond-boxom Lucius practically bouncing on the balls of his high-heeled pointy-shoes in eagerness, looking to him—TO SEVERUS!—to sort this out.

He pretended to think on it for a moment, "Hmm, well let's see, we need to secure the cabin and batton down the hatches, draw anchor, and scrub the planks." Snape continued on in this vein, noticing Lucius's eager nod to each item he said, "—and then we hoist all sails to starboard, and like HELL I know what I'm talking about! A lifetime's service to the wizarding world does not _this_ wizard a muggle airplane stewardess make!"

For a moment, Lucius looked taken aback, and then he drew his dignity around him like a cloak, even going so far as to button one of the buttons on 'everybody calls me' Sam's uniform in the process. He sniffed. "You know, I just thought you would know more about this business, being half-muggle and all…"

Severus had his wand out and pointed at Lucius's throat before he could next blink. He stalked him, his eyes narrowed to slits. "Oh, yes. My muggle father and failed witch of a mother certainly took me out every chance they could on the family jet. We couldn't afford money for food, but damned if we didn't go for trips each weekend to the beach, and the cape, Paris, and Monocco—"

The whirr of the plane's propellers winding up cut off his scathing sarcasm mid-tirade as both looked to the still-open door.

"Surely, we can at least figure out how to close the door," said Lucius.

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Severus watched from his position just outside the door as the interloper showed Ms. Granger how to fly the damned airplane using far too much bodily contact for Severus's liking.

"Do you see? See how you can feel the nose of it start to dive just a bit. That's right, pull up. Gently now. Gently. See, you're a natural!"

"My God! I'm actually doing it! I'm flying the plane!" Severus saw how bright her eyes were, how high the color in her cheeks as she realized her feat. The clicking in his jaw intensified.

"Excuse me." Lucius drawled prissily, moving past Severus carrying a metal tray containing two flutes of champagne. "Champagne for the lady in celebration of her accomplishment."

Her eyes still bright, Ms. Granger turned towards Luscius's polyjuiced form and accepted the proffered flute, but did not drink. Instead, she turned back to the controls, as always, eager for more instruction. "So, what does this little button do?"

The interloping bastard grabbed her hand before she could push it, and kissed it seamlessly, wrapping it once more around her champagne flute and patting it. Severus rolled his eyes.

"Don't press that unless you want the NPAS on our tail."

"NPAS?"

"National Police Air Service." He then went on to explain to her the buttons on the console in loving detail, making minute adjustments to their heading and explaining to her the finer points of air space travel.

Fuming, Severus could only stand by and watch as his Ms. Granger was given a solicitous touch on her shoulder, a slight grazing of the thumb on her neck, a casual brush of hand on her side. The bastard was seducing her—but slowly.

Absolutely furious, Severus muttered an incantation and with the flick of his wand, the plane hit a 'pocket' of turbulence. The outcome had the desired effect though of breaking the two of them apart.

He watched in amusement as she gasped and the champagne flute she had been holding spilled all down the front of her jumper. "Oh! What a mess! I'm so sorry, Michael!"

looked down at her periwinkle blue jumper in disgust. "It's just like me to be so clumsy!"

Lucius's voice heralded his arrival as he spoke in high falsetto, "Oh! What a mess! Horrid tuberance, isn't it?"

Hermione shook her head, and looked at the boxom blond curiously. "Turbulence. Yes, it seems we hit a pocket of it, and I've well…" she gestured down her front where three appreciative male glances fixed themselves on her obviously puckered aureoles. The plane itself was very cold.

Blushing, she crossed her arms demurely in front of her, twin flags of high color appearing on her cheeks.

Lucius was the first to recover himself, "Ahem, yes. Right this way, my dear. Right this way. I've got just the thing to make sure that doesn't set."

"Right. Hermione, do go with Sam and Linda. They'll get you fixed up. And if you want, there's a shirt of mine hanging in the closet if you'd prefer to wear it while your jumper dries."

Rising to her feet, Hermione nodded absently, trying to keep her damp sweater away from her visibly hardened nipples as much as possible. She knew it was useless to feel embarrassed. After all, it was only Michael and the two female flight attendants. Surely, with such ample busts, they would understand her predicament. After all, it was nothing they haven't seen before.

The thought didn't help her feel any less self-conscious though. Why, she could have sworn she was being gawked at by them!

Silly.

"Now, now dear. Let me help you remove that sticky jumper." Suddenly, Sam's hands were on her stomach, lifting up the hem of her top and pulling, exposing her pale torso to the chilled air. Hermione shoved the blond flight attendant's hands away, feeling the strangest ache fill the pit of her stomach.

She blushed and stammered, "Really, really I can do this myself."

The buxom blond flight attendant only took a step back and put a finger to her well-glossed lips as if to say, _Suit yourself, then_.

She turned, showing the blond flight attendant her bare back, and as she began to wiggle the tight little top above her head. Good grief! It wasn't this tight when she put it on this morning! It was almost as if it had a shrinking charm placed on it.

She blinked remembering that this jumper was a present from Ginny Weasley.

It probably did have a shrinking charm on it! Oh, damn her blue eyes. When she got back to Britain, she was going to give the little witch a piece of her mi—

"Would you care for some assistance?"

Hermione looked up into the dark eyes of the other flight attendant named Linda. The dark-haired woman stated roughly, "It seems your jumper is getting caught in the fall of hair at your nape."

Feeling her pulse quicken, Hermione hesitantly nodded, breathing in deeply when she felt Linda's gentle fingers reach up and hold her hair away from her face as she wriggled to remove the damp jumper.

Finally rid of it, she turned to face both flight attendants in nothing more than her jeans and lacy brassiere, and felt gooseflesh ripple from her neck to her belly.

The two women were watching her…almost hungrily; their eyes feasting on her in a way that made Hermione feel both extremely exposed _and_ essentially female.

She bit her lip.

She had never been attracted to women, had never felt a tingling of arousal around one. She would have known wouldn't she have?

After all, she shared a dorm room with two other girls for seven years without a single wiggle of arousal at the sight of another girl's female form. And the same goes for curiosity. Well, okay. There was that one time she and Ginny kissed experimentally to feel what it was like to be Frenched the summer she stayed at Grimmauld Place, but the kiss had ended in snorts and then gales of laughter, the both of them not feeling anything more than utterly ridiculous at their experimentation.

So why did being stared at by these two women make her feel slightly… aroused? She licked the abused flesh of her bottom lip and crossed her arms in front of her now bared chest, and looked anywhere else around the room but at the two women currently feeling her up with their eyes.

And she cursed herself for the twin flags of color that she knew were blooming on her cheeks. "Ummm, right, then." Did her tone sound defensive? How about breathless? Surely not. "Michael mentioned something about a shirt in the closet. Do either of you know where he keeps them?"

The buxom blond one blinked, snapping to attention, "Yes! You must forgive us our manners. Linda, be a love and take care of that will you?" The blond gestured to the damp pile of jumper currently lying in a ball on the floor, "While I see to procuring…ah, here you are…. a freshly clean and dry… hmm, shirt." Hermione could only wonder at the blond's moue of distaste. It was just a t-shirt after all… and why did that expression seem so very familiar?

She looked down at the offending garment and read, ' _F.U.C.K. Chemistry, Oxford elite study Nuclear Science._' The profanity was spelled by using letters arranged from the elements of the periodic table.

Hermione smiled a little at the small joke, and taking it from the blond, made quick work of slipping it on, feeling leagues better now that she was covered up in an over-sized tee and away from their prying eyes.

The dark-haired one—Linda—still had yet to move from her position nearest the door, and Hermione realized that the woman was still staring at her in focused fascination.

In fact, the dark-haired flight attendant had yet to blink! Linda's gaze was exact in its intensity causing Hermione to gulp and take a step back almost into the arms of the blond flight attendant.

From behind her, Sam clapped her hands once causing Hermione to jump and Linda to start, apparently coming back to herself.

With an obvious tone of irritation, blond, buxom Sam ordered, "Linda, see to that won't you while I escort our Ms. Granger back aloft."

She felt a solicitous hand fall gently to the small of her back as the flight attendant escorted her back to the nose of the plane and to Michael. It was with the strangest sense of déjà vu that she returned to her position in the passenger seat of the cock-pit and watched as Michael manipulated the controls and adjusted their heading.

After a moment, he looked over at her, and seeing which shirt she had on, he grinned widely. "You know I also have one that says 'Oxford Chemists Do It on the Table Periodically.'

She smiled, trying to shake off the unsettling feelings the two flight attendants had inspired. "You know, I once bought my father a t-shirt that said, 'I See Numb People' with the picture of a cartoon syringe and tooth. He wore it to pieces."

And just like that, their conversation resumed, and it was just so easy being with Michael! So very easy. Not like the men of her acquaintance at all. As they talked and laughed, Hermione felt herself relax and cool down from the strange encounter in the lounge.

And as for the two flight attendants, she would be glad to see the back of them upon their arrival to the states.

With a comfortable lull in conversation, Hermione thought of her decision to 'go muggle' for the week. It had been so long since she had done so, giving up her wand for a period of time so that she could reacquaint herself with her muggle roots.

Her mother and father had encouraged her to never lose that part of herself—the part that would always be muggle through and through, and they had encouraged her to embrace it by gifting her during the summer holidays with muggle tours and trips guaranteed to spark the eager interest of one insatiably curious teenage witch wanting to know it all.

She never felt lacking without her magic during those times for her parents more than made up for it by making each planned excursion fun and fact-filled, brimming with information that an eager teenage Hermione gratefully absorbed.

It wasn't until the end of sixth year, that Hermione realized that those times of muggle learning and parental protection were over. It was _she_ who had to do the protecting. The summer of her sixth year had been her last with her parents as she had chosen to remove their memories and relocate them rather than face the definite possibility of their imminent deaths.

"Where have you gone?"

Hermione looked up to see concern etched on Michael's face as he watched her. Adjusting the controls for automation, he reached over and caressed the side of her face, sweeping a stray curl behind her ear. "Hermione. What is it, love?"

She leaned into his touch. "Oh, it's just me being sentimental, I guess." She shrugged. "It's just, my parents have been gone for almost nine years, and in many ways, it feels like it was just yesterday that I was taking a trip with them."

She smiled sadly.

"Come here, you."Michael picked her up and drew her to his lap. "Although, I cannot make up for the losses you have suffered in the past." He kissed her clasped hands and held them between his own. "I would like to get the chance to share with you a future filled with love, laughter, and happ—"

"Time for the in-flight meal." a deep voice broke in from the doorway.

Both she and Michael jumped guiltily at the intrusion. And then suddenly Hermione was being hoisted from Michael's lap and unceremoniously dumped back into her passenger seat. She looked up to find the surly face of Flight Attendant Linda preying down upon her accusingly as if she had done something wrong! She shied away, blinking at the mental tableau her mind conjured of the hawk-like Linda swooping in to grab her from the wings and toss her into the depths of the ocean deep below. She shook her head to dispel the image only just managing to catch the tray as it was thrust upon her before it toppled over into the floor. She looked down at her plate and cringed. It was filled with the most unappetizing, congealed goop she'd ever seen.

She poked it with a fork, "Errm… what is it?"

Blond and buxom flight attendant Sam answered proudly from the doorway. "It's goose liver _pâté _served on a bed of leeks, garlic, and baby arugula. Delicious!"

"Oh. Is it?" Hermione looked over at Michael uncertainly, and he shrugged and mouthed 'off-night', setting his own goopy plate aside. She gave a covert glance to the blond flight attendant that prepared the meal who seemed to be studying her expectantly, waiting for her to take a bite.

She opened her mouth to say she really wasn't hungry after all, but then for some reason, she thought of Lucius.

The poor man had certainly taken her advice toward getting a hobby to heart, vowing that of all things, he was going to learn to cook French haute cuisine.

The only trouble was… Lucius Malfoy _really_ couldn't cook!

On a lark, Hermione had bought him _The Joy of Cooking_ for his fiftieth birthday, and they had spent an afternoon preparing a few recipes in the book for dinner later that evening. After going over the steps with him in fine detail, Hermione had left him to it in order to apparate home to get ready, feeling confident in the knowledge that he could always read the recipe and be fine.

A couple of hours and several judiciously cast _augamenti_ charms later, Hermione had sufficient cause to rethink her decision in ever leaving Lucius Malfoy alone in an unsupervised kitchen without even a house elf in attendance.

Oh the man was an innovative whizbang in the Charms lab, and with his own personal brand of charm, he could work a room-full of patrons for donations and support, but damn, if he didn't think there was always a wizarding shortcut to be had instead of doing something the 'muggle' way.

If the recipe called for 'flambé', then Lucius would whip out his wand and proceed to torch the poor dish to blackened tar. If the recipe called for a 'skimming' of the fat, Lucius would inevitably wave his wand and banish it, leading to a tasteless and all-around dyspeptic dining experience.

She and Severus had been invited that night to partake in Lucius's new-found cooking prowess. Being the sneaksy Slytherin that he was, Severus had thought to eat beforehand, and so, arrived to Malfoy Manor bearing a full stomach, a grinning smirk for her own growling one, and a box of dessert.

Meanwhile, Hermione had been presented with course after course of inedible glop, and she hadn't the heart to tell Lucius how incredibly terrible everything was for he was so enthusiastic about the prospect of learning to cook, so energized by the process, that, for politeness's sake, Hermione had been forced to taste each dish and ruminate on how incredibly delicious it all was. Meanwhile, Severus had just smirked at her and drank his wine while Lucius absorbed her complements like a thirsting flower did the rain.

Severus did, however, give her double quotient of pudding when the time for the dessert course came around. And as it was the only edible portion of the entire meal, Hermione had inhaled it.

"Well?" Sam asked uncertainly from the doorway, her hands clasped together as she rocked back and forth on her pointy heels.

Coming back to herself, Hermione once again got that strange feeling of déjà vu as she looked at the flight attendants and then down at the goopy grey mess of tortured fare before her.

Determinedly, she picked up her fork and took a deep breath. Michael just shook his head and turned away, pantomiming trying not to be ill. Linda stood above her, watching her accusingly, as if to say, _Yes, this is exactly what you deserve_. _Now Eat._

And Sam? Well, she looked at her with a hope-filled and endearing smile, begging her to try some.

Hermione's mouth flooded with saliva, and it felt like that moment just before one begins to vomit.

Praying for absolution, she scooped up a fork-full of pate, and closing her eyes, she resigned herself to her fate and slowly lifted the fork-full to her mouth and stuck it in. Not taking a moment to chew, she swallowed the goop whole, and it settled like a lead weight in the pit of her stomach weaving and churning in the acid there.

Blindly, she reached for the wine Linda so thoughtfully handed her trying not to gag from the residual taste of the goop in her mouth. She took a deep draught of wine, and pasting on her biggest smile, said to Sam, "It's delicious! Absolutely the best thing I've ever eaten."

Sam's smile was dazzling to behold as she proudly turned and left them to it, presumably to return to the galley kitchen to prepare more.

Gagging, Hermione swallowed reflexively and drained the glass of wine she held. And then drawing a ragged breath, said, "Dear Gods! Give me more wine! Hurry, Linda! Hurry!" Hermione chanted in refrain as she held her glass up imploring it to be refilled.

The taste of goop was still in the back of her throat.

"You are just too nice for your own good, sometimes, Hermione, love." Michael gave her a sunny smile and shook his head. "You could have said 'no', you know?"

"And break poor Sam's heart," she gently punched his shoulder, "I don't think so! Thank you, Linda," Hermione said, raising her refilled glass of wine to the dark-headed flight attendant in a salute. The dark headed woman only cocked an eyebrow, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

Feeling floaty, Hermione smiled when Michael reached for her hand and held it. "Trust me, Hermione. Sam wouldn't have been offended in the slightest if you had said you just weren't hungry."

She shook her head as she sipped on the wine she held. "Well, in that case, Michael, isn't there a window we can roll down on this thing to dump the mess out?" She indicated the two plates that still needed to be disposed of. "I think it needs a burial at sea."

Michael shook his head and laughed. "I'm afraid not, sugar. But there is a latrine over on the other side of the cabin. Linda, if you'd be so good as to see that the contents of those two plates find their way home, I'd be much obliged." Michael smiled charmingly at the surly flight attendant, and as she left them, Hermione could swear the woman was muttering foul-mouthed curses under her breath.

Hermione shook her head, the wine working to loosen her tongue a bit as she stated, "I don't think Linda likes me overly much."

"Hmm?" Michael looked up, distracted by one of the flight panel displays. "Oh, I think both Linda and Sam are having off-days today, love. Sorry you're having to bear the brunt of it."

She nodded, "'s okay. Just so it's not just me then? They really are acting strangely, right?"

Michael nodded and smiled, and Hermione sat back in her chair intent on learning more about the automated controls of the little plane. But then suddenly, she yawned hugely.

"Are you sleepy, love?"

She had to think about it. "Hmm? Well yeah, I guess I am…" If she didn't know any better, she felt like she had been slipped a sleeping draught for how she felt. But that was preposterous! No one on board the plane was magical except for her! She was on a muggle aircraft for Merlin's sake! Practically an island unto itself… and why couldn't she keep her eyes open?

"Why don't you go ahead and go back to the lounge. There's a small bed back there you can use, and one of the girls will show you the way." He gestured vaguely, his eyes still focused on the blinking displays in front of him.

Nodding, Hermione rose and began to drunkenly weave her way to the room she had been in earlier.

The plane hit a pocket of turbulence, and she stumbled.

There was a moment of knowing, just knowing that she was going to fall and hit the floor. When out of nowhere, two arms swooped in and caught her securely about the middle, and two more grabbed her jean-clad legs and hoisted her into the air.

And Hermione had the impression that she was being scooped up and carried away by the two flight attendants and laid gently on the soft bed where she floated to oblivion.

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_**A/N:**_ Not happy with the final product, I have reworked some things and re-explained others. Do let me know what you think, won't you, dear reader?

Blessed be!

_**DGM**_


	3. The Plan is Simple QED

Chapter 3— Simple. QED

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"How long did you say she'll be out, Severus?" Feeling his old self start to return as the polyjuice wore off, Lucius waved his wand so that the stewardess outfit he was wearing accommodated his more masculine frame.

"I didn't." Likewise, Severus, with a distasteful grimace, avoided glancing at the mirror as he waved his wand to resize the stewardess outfit to accommodate his natural form. They needed to be ready to transform in an instant should Mic the Dick decide they were needed or in case Ms. Granger awakened from the sleeping draught Severus had slipped into her wine.

"Well, what's your best guess then?" Lucius asked.

"Perhaps an hour or two at most. Enough to see us landed and off this thrice-damned plane. Why?"

Lucius looked around impatiently, and whipping out his wand, locked and warded the door. "Because I have another plan."

Severus looked up at him in disbelief. "Absolutely not! We've already seen this plan of yours go 'tits up' if you pardon the pun."

"I don't."

"And I am not going to be subjected to any more of your tomfoolery."

"Tomfoolery, Severus? Really, who says tomfoolery anymore?"

Awkwardly seating himself in the damned skirt, Severus thought, not for the first time that day, how it was that women survived wearing control-top nylon stockings for hours on end? Little torture devices. And the heels! Good Gods! Those walking death traps! And never mind the wire-cage brassiere that was currently digging a hole into his sternum.

Unlike Severus, however, Lucius—the primpy blond bastard— had no qualms about his state of dress, and he looked as composed and comfortable as he ever did: perched on the stilted heels, his stocking-clad legs on prominent display due to the short skirt. The fitted top, however, was a bit blousy in the bust now that Lucius had had reverted to his natural, flat-chested form.

Severus fidgeted where he sat, adjusting his position to try and find a modicum of comfort amidst the unfamiliar aches and pains his body was cataloguing that apparently went along with wearing female attire. Ripping off the kerchief at his throat, he said irritably, "The plan was supposed to be simple. Grab some of her hair. Grab some of his. A little judicious use of polyjuice and misdirection and voila! They are no longer together, and Ms. Granger is back where she belongs."

With his back leaning against the bureau, and his arms crossed, Lucius cocked an eyebrow. "And where exactly is that, Severus?"

Severus looked at him as if he were a particularly dense dunderhead. "In the lab, of course, with you and me, researching potential cures for magical maladies and debilitating disorders."

Lucius snorted but kept his own council on the subject as he conjured a chair, and seating himself, made a study of the young witch as she slept her charmed sleep.

At length, Lucius said, "You know that's not going to be enough for her. And it will never be enough, Severus. Not for anyone. And this type of thing—this courting ritual—is going to keep happening until Ms. Granger has found a mate with whom she can settle."

Severus scoffed incredulously. "A mate? A mate?! Oh, yes. She thinks she's found a mate in Captain Britain over there. Clearly, her better judgment has been compromised if _that_—" he gestured to the cock-pit that existed beyond the warded door, "—is the best she has found. Good Gods! The man has a puerile sense of humor! Just look at the shirt she is wearing! How can she find that possibly attractive? How?!"

For Severus's sake, he really didn't understand how a woman like Ms. Granger could remotely be attracted to Mr. Fortenbrass, and Lucius took a moment to gather his thoughts in explaining it to him in a way he thought Severus could understand. His silver eyes narrowed. "We are both of us men of a certain age, Severus."

Severus snorted and adjusted his position but refrained from comment.

"And we were raised in a different time, as well as a different culture from the one Ms. Granger sometimes chooses to inhabit." Lucius gestured around them at the plane as if to say: _case in point_.

"And ever since the war, Ms. Granger has thrown herself into one good work or another, trying to make the wizarding world a better place. And for the most part, she has succeeded. After all, take the two of us for example: two washed up and jaded misanthropes spending our time, energy, and resources on actually helping her in her quest. She came to the both of us, appealing not only to our better natures but to the simple logic behind partnering with her in Lux Aeterna Industries. It took courage and a certain… moxy for her to do that."

Severus tried to interrupt, but Lucius plowed on ahead. "And after that Weasley boy was killed in the war, she practically put her heart on the shelf… that is until just recently." Lucius shot Severus a knowing look. "Hermione is a young woman in the bloom of her life. She is vivacious. She deserves a willing wizard in her bed that can teach her a thing or two about what it means to really love a witch."

A slight tell-tale blush creeped above Severus's buttoned up collar, and Lucius smiled to himself to see it.

Severus only shook his head, and rising from the chair, made his way over to the bedside where he seated himself gently beside Ms. Granger on pretext of checking her vitals. The original plan could still work. He only needed a few hairs plucked from the root, and then he would be able to impersonate her, and Lucius would impersonate the interloping Mic, and then the fights would begin, their relationship would end, the three of them could return home, and that would be that.

Simple. Q.E.D.

He restated this to Lucius.

"But what happens after, man?" Rising from his chair, Lucius began to pace.

Severus looked up from his study of the witch. "After what?"

"After their break-up of course."

"Is the polyjuice impairing your ability to think?" Severus snapped. "The three of us will return home and not think anything more of it."

Lucius only rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Severus! Have you not heard a word I've said? Just because you want to stick your head in the sand, doesn't mean that I'm going to. It's far past time for our Ms. Granger to settle down. Besides, she has remained single for much too long as it is, and like I said, she will continue this farce of searching for a mate until she finds one." Lucius nodded to emphasize his point.

And as Severus finally listened to and absorbed Lucius's words, his hands balled tightly into fists as he thought of the prospect of what her leaving would mean.

He said through gritted teeth, "Well, then. What is it you'd suggest?"

Lucius's eyes lit up with the question, and Severus knew he had been well and truly played.

His fellow Slytherin came to the other side of the bed and knelt down by Ms. Granger's head. And gently, he began to twirl one of the curls at her nape through his fingers. Severus watched as Lucius's gaze rose and met his steadily, and his voice was as serious as Severus heard him speak as he stated, "We could share her, Severus."

Severus's eyes widened slightly; the only visual cue that told of him of actually being shocked by Lucius's words.

Lucius held up a hand, "Just hear me out. Ever since Narcissa and Draco left me, Severus, you and Hermione have been like family to me. You both kept me sane after my public disgrace and abandonment. It was you that kept me industriously occupied during the decimation of my holdings, and Ms. Granger showed me another path I could take—one that did not contribute to my depression or self-neglect. You both made the castigation and humiliation put forth by the Ministry into a kind of balm of sorts, and now—," Lucius smiled softly. "Now, I cannot think of anyone else I would rather be with than the two of you."

"And are you proposing that we—?"

The blond wizard looked down gently on the sleeping witch, and absently, he drew a protective sigil across her brow with his thumb. "It is only natural that I want to keep my family together, Severus." Lucius gulped as he met Severus's gaze, for his usual insouciant mask was gone, and Severus could see how much this admission was costing the usually glib and superficial man. "I—I love you both, and would gladly lay my life down in forfeit for your happiness. Do you understand, brother?"

Severus drew a deep breath and considered Lucius's proposal. He studied the sleeping witch, and knew exactly what Lucius had said was true.

Ms. Granger was ready to settle down, and she had been for a while now.

In fact, the only thing stopping her had been Severus's constant vigilance in making sure this was not to be. For no one she brought 'round was good enough for the messy-headed moppet that was his friend and business partner.

Though it was true that he and Ms. Granger fought and bickered like an old, married couple with her cursing and hexed him and he making her life a living, breathing hell at times. And yet, Severus wouldn't have it any other way. After all, he had grown accustomed to her chatter and her optimism, accustomed to the way she could studiously research a topic for hours, ferreting out information on her muggle contraptions that she tried to convince both him and Lucius to use.

He had grown accustomed to her face: curious and lively one minute, serious and thoughtful the next. She was so expressively genuine and easy to read; her emotions always there for him to appreciate and savor.

Looking down at the sleeping, headstrong witch before him, the slightest of smiles appeared on Severus's face. He caressed the hard line of her jaw—a jaw he knew to be mulish if ever there was one—and looked up at his brother in arms.

"Well, what is your plan?"

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"And just how familiar are you with the concept of the incubus?"

Severus narrowed his eyes, trying to see where Lucius was going. He said haltingly, "It is a lower class of male demon believed to be the source of nightmares and nocturnal emissions for women, and it is muggle nonsense. Thank Merlin those kinds of thoughts ceased holding sway after the Dark Ages."

Lucius smiled tightly and nodded. "Yes, while it is true that the incubus as pertains to demonology does not exist, the spell to become one, I assure you, most certainly does."

Severus looked at him, his curiosity piqued.

Lucius continued, "You do recall the more rare volumes of dark magic and lore I had you house before the Ministry could confiscate them from the Manor?"

Severus nodded.

"Well, I don't suppose that you perused any of them, especially the _Manuel de Chasse aux Sorcières_ with a passage entitled _Dirait-on_?"

Severus remembered thumbing through the old, brittled pages of the rare tome. It had been written in the seventeenth century by a cloister of superstitious monks and had more in common with a how-to manual on hunting witches than any actual magic itself. He remembered putting it down in disgust when the monks began describing the witch-dunking trials they had performed.

He had never picked it back up.

However, admitting ignorance of a topic was not in his nature. "I am familiar with the book." Severus hedged.

Lucius studied him a moment. "You put it down after reading about the trials, didn't you?" He shook his head in disgust. "Awfully shortsighted of you, Severus. Well, if you had read on, then you would have been treated to a consortium of torture devices and techniques invented by these, ahem, _frustrated_ monks in order to get their quarry to admit to committing evil acts of a perverse nature. And it just so happened that one of the monks was an actual wizard."

Severus looked at Lucius distrustfully, not liking the way this conversation was going. To his slight surprise, he looked down and realized he was slightly hunched over Ms. Granger's form as if to shield her from Lucius's plan.

Lucius only rolled his eyes. "Honestly! Magic is neither good nor evil. It is neutral. You know that, Severus! It is all a matter of intent!"

Straightening, Severus gave him an arch look; there was no need for him to speak.

Lucius cleared his throat. "Well, alright. Although it was written in a book chock-full of ways to torture and terrorize muggle women, the spell itself is not a dark spell. Well, it's mostly not dark. In fact, it is very much in the area of gray, but I digress."

Severus shifted on the bed, impatiently, "And what exactly does this spell do?"

"Well, you see, we cannot just spring these thoughts of ours onto our Ms. Granger. She would be scandalized, embarrassed, perhaps even horrified."

"I'm a bit horrified of the prospect myself," Severus said dryly.

Lucius ignored him. "It would ruin our friendship if she did not reciprocate our feelings. Not to mention put into jeopardy _Lux Enterprises_ if she decided we were two old deviants that needed to be left to our own devices. No. This plan of mine requires…subtly, tact."

"You're relating this to me as you would a Gryffindor. Get on with it."

"Alright! The plan is simple. We cast the incubus spell on Ms. Granger and do a little reconnaissance inside her dreams. I would like the opportunity to brooch the topic of having us both. If she is at all inclined to the possibility, then I would like to see where it would lead. If there is any tendency, then we shall feed the flames of her ardor so that she forgets all about her Mic and comes back to Britain with us." Lucius finished proudly.

But before Severus could speak, Lucius nodded towards the bed. "You do need to make your decision soon, _mon frère_. Time is of the essence."

Even now, Severus could see Ms. Granger's eyes were moving rapidly beneath her closed lids indicating that she had entered into the dreaming portion of the potion. It would not be too much longer before she would awaken, refreshed and ready to spend more of her time with the interloping Mic.

"What must we do?" he spoke softly, cursing himself for his weakness at falling once again into Lucius Malfoy's scheming hands.

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_**A/N:**_ Q.E.D. is Latin for quod erat demonstrandum which means: 'which was to be demonstrated'. "Its purpose is to alert the reader that the immediately previous statement, which naturally was arrived at by an unbroken chain of logic, was the original statement that was proven." I read an HGxSS fic that had this in it, and I just had to research and include it in my own. Alas, for Severus, Lucius's plans are neither simple nor directly logical; especially when it concerns a certain honey-eyed Gryffindor.

_**DGM**_


	4. Ruminations and Regrets

Ch. 4— Ruminations and Regrets

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Severus Snape was familiar with the concept of sharing a woman. The Death Eater Revels, especially before the Dark Lord came to power the second time, made it a frequent practice among their set to do so.

However, rape was not encouraged or sanctioned by the Dark Lord at any point during either of his ascents to power. For although sordid and grotesque misdeeds did occur aplenty among the Death Eaters, the Dark Lord did not want his followers' bodies defiled in any way by having them lower themselves to as much as physically touch a muggle, muggle sympathizer, or muggle-born let alone perform a sexual act with one.

They were held to a higher standard.

Pureblood yielded pureblood after all, and needed to be kept all in the family. Thus, sharing the small pool of willing pureblooded women among themselves became one of the incentives the Dark Lord bestowed as a reward to his followers.

Sexual relations in triad form created a bridge between two of his followers and a devoted woman. These unions proved to create a fraternal kinship and intimacy between the three which served to build solidarity and further the Dark Lord's aims. As for the willing witches who chose to share themselves in such a way, they were revered for having done so and gloried in the adoration it brought them. A sexual triad had been known to enhance magical powers for spell-casting and form bonds of power for certain magical workings. There had always been a sacred magic in the number three, and the value of this did not escape the Dark Lord.

In point of fact, before he was struck down the first time, the Dark Lord was known to have frequented the marriage-bed of Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange and had a magical affinity with both of them because of it.

And though it was true that the Dark Lord did not understand the concept of love, he did understand the currency of power, loyalty, and alliance, and it was not an unusual occurrence for the Dark Lord to perform the services of both matchmaker and cleric for his followers: forming alliances through marriage; granting or denying favors and requests for triad partnerships; and manipulating his followers through their marks in order to better suit his aims, swell his ranks, and increase his holdings.

After all, some might think that receiving the Dark Mark would be a painful experience, akin to getting a brand or a Muggle tattoo, but Severus could testify that receiving the Dark Lord's Mark was truly one of the most erotic and gratifying experiences that he had ever felt to date; feeling as if he had come, gone, and been born again—all without the Dark Lord ever having touched him.

And so it was that with Dark Lord's first ascent to power, sexual triads became _de rigueur_ among the best and most noble Pure Blooded families, the family Malfoy being no exception.

However, Lucius, Narcissa, and Severus had never formed a bridge together.

In fact, Severus had never taken a part in any kind of Death Eater sexual exploit due to the simple fact that the Dark Lord saw him as a pseudo-cloistered, celibate monk content with refining his skill at potions' making and ignoring sexual relations altogether.

And after Lily's death, Severus did very little to dissuade anyone of this notion.

Lucius and Narcissa had instead formed a triad sanctioned by the Dark Lord with fellow Death Eater Reginald Nott, who was at the time a recent widower and young father of Theodore Nott. When Draco was born, Reginald was named Draco's god-father, and the three of them—Reginald, Lucius, and Narcissa— carried on until the Dark Lord began his second ascent to power.

By his second incarnation, the Dark Lord had become very unstable. It was Severus's belief that when he came back the second time, the Dark Lord had become nearly sexless and was most certainly impotent. And in a textbook case of sour grapes, because he could not take part himself, sexual triads became strictly verboten within the inner circle of Death Eaters, leading all who sought them to be severely –even castratingly— punished.

At any rate, as the Dark Lord's lust for power grew, sexual triads quickly fell out of favor, and the only incentive bestowed upon his followers was a small reprieve from pain.

It was during this time that the Dark Lord looked towards Severus as an example and confidant of sorts: seeing in him a fellow celibate who had sought more cerebral forms of pleasure than the instant gratification that came from a coital act. The Dark Lord's faith in Severus's celibacy, in addition to the killing of Albus Dumbledore, improved Severus's standing among the ranks of Death Eaters, and it was he—the vestal potions bat of the dungeons— that had ascended to the highest rank and became his most trusted advisor.

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And so it was that after the Dark Lord had been vanquished completely, and the Death Eater trials had begun, Narcissa Malfoy had been cleared of any wrong-doing on account of having never taken the Dark Mark in the first place. Her position was one of plausible deniability, and the Wizengamot saw fit to grant her clemency. There was also the little matter of having defected on the eve of the final battle and having never thrown a curse that weighed greatly in her favor.

The tide of public opinion was favorable for Draco as well, and quite firmly set against his father, as it was found by the Wizengamot that the boy had been coerced by his sire _and_ Tom Riddle on pain of death to take the Dark Mark. Draco, who had helped by not identifying Harry Potter and company when they had arrived to the Manor captured by Snatchers, was only just a boy after all. And so it was that Draco had also been cleared of any wrong-doing.

During the final Battle, when it became obvious that the Dark Lord and his followers were outmatched, Reginald Nott deserted his post. Allegedly, he fled back to the Nott family holdings in Eastern Bulgaria, and Severus assumed that, upon being acquitted, both Narcissa and Draco had followed him there.

Thus leaving Lucius to face his fate alone.

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Severus knew that Lucius was no saint, but he was not the black-hearted villain the press and public opinion had made him out to be. It was true that Lucius's blood-superiority and bigotry ran deep, but it was also true that he had a Slytherin practicality that knew when to cut his losses.

Even so, his trial was a circus, even surpassing Severus's own in terms of attendance and fanfare.

There were calls for the Kiss to be administered; a petition generated for public execution. And yet, through it all, Lucius had kept his head held high and maintained his arrogant, blasé attitude.

Unfortunately, this had only served to incite the crowd further, and the Aurory had had to post two of their strongest and most capable on each side of Lucius during his trial in order to shield him from hexes and curses that were volleyed his way.

In the end, it was Minerva that had saved him.

She had provided proof that Lucius had been working for the Order.

When Lucius had returned home from Azkaban and discovered Draco's new Dark Mark, he made it his mission to begin gathering intelligence that he could share with the Order of the Phoenix. In many cases, the tip-offs were a repetition of the information that Severus had already gathered— serving to lend credence to both. However, in some cases, because Lucius was at the Manor so much of the time when the Dark Lord made his schemes and plans, he began feeding the Order information that, in some cases, even Severus wasn't privy to. For although the Dark Lord had treated Lucius and his family with disdain, he still managed to make Malfoy Manor the headquarters for most of his strategic war games, strikes, and planning if only for its opulence.

Lucius had trusted no one, not even Albus, to keep his identity a secret. Thus, the insider information Lucius provided was relayed via house elf from Malfoy Manor to Hogwarts, and then from Hogwarts to Headmaster Dumbledore. When Dumbledore was killed, and Severus Snape proceeded him as headmaster, Lucius's information passed to Minerva McGonagall for he did not know Severus's true allegiance and did not want to give the game away should Severus prove true to the Dark Lord after all.

During the course of Minerva's testimony—as well as those of the two house elves that forwarded the information— it was found that Lucius had saved countless muggle and muggle-born lives through this treachery to the Dark Lord.

And it was this, and only this, that had saved him from receiving the Kiss.

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Severus will never forget the moment when this information was revealed.

His own trial had been a preposterous affair complete with a pensieve filled with Dumbledore's memories and his own of Lily. Harry Potter had spoken in his favor, calling for the exoneration of one Severus Tobias Snape and argued fiercely that without his contributions, they would not have won the war.

Severus had said nothing in his own defense. After all, he had killed Albus Dumbledore, he had actively participated in the Revels, and he had brewed lethal potions that were used to agonizingly kill their victims.

He _deserved_ the Kiss.

And so, fate being the fickle bitch that it is, had seen fit to give him a commuted sentence of two and a half years community service and a fine that left his Gringott's vault completely bare.

It had been a slap on the wrist compared to the fate that awaited many of his Death Eater brethren.

When Minerva had revealed Lucius's espionage, Lucius had glanced up, and very deliberately locked eyes with Severus.

_Brother_. Through legilimency, Severus had heard the word spoken in his mind.

_Brother_. Severus had returned, bowing his head in acknowledgement of this fact, and he had felt the bond he shared with this man—his long-time friend and corruptor— strengthen a thousand fold at that moment.

When Lucius's time for sentencing came, the court of public opinion still held sway, and though he was not given any time in Azkaban to serve, he _was_ levied with hefty fines that all but bankrupted the once illustrious house of Malfoy. After all, the Ministry was nearly bankrupt itself due to the costs of war, and it had to make up the difference somehow.

The only reason Lucius was permitted to keep Malfoy Manor was because the Wizengamot wanted to make an example of him by showing just how low the mighty have fallen.

Yes, indeed. They had allowed him to keep his ostentatious mansion, but they had taken nearly all of the furnishings within it to help pay down the debt he owed to wizarding society. They had left him a sprawling estate with no house elves to tend it and absolutely nothing in his Gringott's vault to help pay the immense estate tax.

Severus believed that it was the ultimate plan of the Ministry to have the land taxes be the final nail in Lucius's coffers, thereby financially destroying the man as surely as if they agreed to administer the Kiss after his trial.

And this most certainly would have happened but for one mitigating factor the Ministry had not taken into account: the force of reckoning that is Hermione Granger.

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"Severus, here I've been talking, and you've been staring into your lager and haven't been listening to a word I've said. It's not tea leaves for Merlin's sake! Drink it and be done or ask for another; for surely, it's gone warm by now."

Looking up, Severus saw Lucius studying him intently, his silver eyes seeking to ferret out Severus's thoughts.

Mentally locking them away, Severus surreptitiously cast a cooling charm on the warm beer and tossed it back, grimacing at the taste.

He had never liked beer.

But needs must, he supposed, as he looked around the muggle bar they were currently in as they waited for Ms. Granger and the interloping Mic to finish their Muggle traveling and arrive at the hotel.

Beforehand, Lucius had found— via his muggle detective— where the Muggle Mic had made reservations. And the moment Lucius and Severus had left the plane, Lucius had them apparate to the hotel at which Ms. Granger and her Mic were to be staying.

And once the polyjuice wore off, they had transformed their stewardess outfits into muggle-friendly attire of dark slacks, sporting jackets, and dress shirts. The both of them had tied their hair back into queues secured with leather thongs. And as it was, they looked to the muggle eye like two European businessmen arrived for a convention.

More than one woman had stopped to take notice, trying to catch their eye. That was until Lucius cast a Notice-Me-Not charm. But then, of course, their bartender couldn't find them. Finally, Lucius had taken pity on the poor man, and canceling the charm for a moment, grabbed their drinks, and off the muggle barkeep went, shaking his head in confusion at finding his hands suddenly empty.

And so, there they were in a corner booth of a dimly lit pub inside a posh muggle hotel, drinking horrid muggle beer and waiting for Ms. Granger and the interloping Mic to arrive.

"Now that we have cast the initial binding of the Incubus curse—"

"Curse?" Severus asked sharply.

"Well, …spell." Unruffled as always, Lucius sighed and checked his pocket watch. "Used incorrectly, the spell has the potential to be an insanity-inducing curse to all parties involved. Need I not remind you what it is we're actually doing?

"We are now connected to Ms. Granger, and she to us. We are, in point of fact, hunting her as Incubi would their intended victim. And what is it that incubi do, Severus, when they find and latch onto their intended prey?"

Pausing for an answer, Lucius smiled at the dark-eyed man who maintained his stony silence and his sullen scowl.

"Come, come, Severus. Answer the question." Lucius cajoled and pointedly glanced at his watch again.

Shooting him a look of loathing, Severus answered, "Incubi leech off their victim's dreams, feeding from the shared intimacy of it."

"Bravo, Professor." Lucius nodded. "Glad you were paying attention. Incubi feed. We need her, Severus. The spell doesn't have a simple 'finite incantatem' should we wish to end it. Once it is activated, it will have to run its course; that is unless, of course, we can get Ms. Granger to accept and welcome our presence by consciously taking us both into her bed. If she does that, then the spell will end, and we will be restored to our normal, wizarding selves."

"Wait—what?"

"Did you not hear a word I said earlier? Ever since you saw Ms. Granger in nothing but her jeans and lacey muggle corset, you have been utterly distracted. Severus, I need you to focus!" Lucius drew a deep breath, and continued more calmly, "The wizarding monk who invented the spell was a voyeur. He enjoyed watching young women as they slept, and enjoyed it _VERY_ much if you take my meaning. However, invisibility and sound-dampening spells only go so far when he was trying to, ahem, self-gratify; after all, they require a measure of concentration, and more often than not, his quarry ended up waking half-way through before he could finish polishing… the ivory wand. And so, he spent his more than abundant free-time creating and perfecting a spell that allowed him to: neither be seen nor heard, allowed him to walk through walls of unprotected homes, and allowed him to enter into the dreams of the unfortunate young woman upon whom he had chosen to fixate."

"And you've started this process with Ms. Granger?" Severus's tone was flat, unaffected.

"Well, yes. _We've_ started it." Lucius nodded and glanced once more at the watch at his chain. "After all, it is the only way to find out if we have a chance of it. Where _are_ you going?"

Rising, Severus made for the back of the muggle hotel pub, trying to get his emotions in check. He could punch him; he really would like the chance to rearrange Lucius Malfoy's pretty face. No magic required.

Magic.

Oh dear gods!

A bit desperately, Severus popped into a darkened alcove and whipping out his wand, attempted to apparate.

He felt a fizzle, like he was a Butterbeer gone stale. Looking up, he met Lucius's eyes and watched as he shook his head. "As of five minutes ago, Severus, no one can see us. We are intangible. Able to walk through muggle walls, and go virtually any place outside the wizarding world that we want undetected. But there is a price."

Severus had to measure his breathing and slow his pulse for his heart was galloping madly inside his chest as Lucius continued to speak, his voice soft as if trying to soothe a cornered animal. "The wizard that created this spell wanted complete anonymity. He did not want to run the risk of another of his kind figuring out what he was doing and, with a well-placed 'finite incantatem', revealing him for the absolute letch that he was, so he made the spell time-sensitive. For the next seven days, we are invisible. Though we can see and hear all, we cannot be seen, nor can we be heard. We cannot interact with the conscious world, and we have no magic."

Closing his eyes at the overwhelming certainty that he had once again allowed Lucius to lead him down the garden path towards certain disaster, Severus forced himself to occlude all emotion, an exercise he had not been compelled to perform in quite some time.

Breathing deeply, he found his center once more and forced himself to accept what Lucius said as fact: that he was now literally powerless and invisible. His thoughts raced. "You said 'conscious world'." His voice was without emotion, lacking in the slightest inflection that could possibly betray the state of his rapid thoughts. "Am I right in believing that we can interact with the subconscious world of Ms. Granger's thoughts? We can influence her dreams?"

Lucius smiled, his gray eyes alighting with humor and mischief. "Yes, mon frère, we can." He put his arm around Severus and led him back to the bar. Their drinks were gone and others were seated at their table. And that's when Severus realized that even if he wanted another of the foul-tasting drinks, he couldn't order it. The barkeep couldn't see him!

He could kill Lucius.

Oh, he really could.

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_**A/N:**_ I have edited chapters one through three aiming for more realistic characterization. Chapter two was probably the most affected as I felt I was not giving Lucius the attention he so richly deserved... and he kept prodding me until I fixed it.

More to come soon,

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	5. The Ethics of Eavesdropping

Ch. 5— The Ethics of Eavesdropping

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_Finally!_ Hermione thought as the limousine pulled up slowly to the curb of the hotel.

It had been so long since she had travelled muggle-fashion that she had forgotten how tedious it could be, and with the sunlight all but gone and night falling all around them, the bloom was definitely off the muggle-travelling rose.

Gods, but she was tired!

It was a bit of a letdown to realize that she could have agreed to meet Michael here and just taken a portkey to their hotel, but he had wanted to keep their destination a secret. And in keeping with her decision of abstinence from all things magical this week, she had agreed to go along with his surprise and do things the muggle way.

Looking up and taking in the resort they were to be staying in the fading light, she was suddenly glad she did.

Oh, how she needed this! A break from all things magical.

A vacation—her first since she started her non-profit organization Lux Aeterna Industries almost eight years ago. And she had come with a good friend that just might lead to something more; she eyed Michael askance as he lifted their luggage from the boot and admired the play of muscles of his chest and arms.

Yes, it just might.

She had met Michael through a project she was working on involving the concept of nanotechnology and magic.

Hermione's specialty was transfiguration on the molecular level, and she had been researching techniques to combine muggle genetic therapy and magic by isolating a particular defective strand of a witch's or wizard's dna, and through transfiguration, she hoped to be able to repair it. The implications of her findings were profound. She postulated that through the use of transfiguration, she could help restore those that suffered from spell-damage, musculature deformation, and lycanthropy— just to name a few. In fact, she was even looking in to being able to restore the magic for children born as squibs.

The possibilities were endless.

But there two problems, one being the problem of scope. The human body holds trillions upon trillions of dna strands, and it would take lifetimes to sort out one human body spell by spell due the sheer immensity of the magic that would need to be worked on such a level. Hermione soon realized that she needed a way to automatically replicate the spell, and that was where Michael's research had come in. She had read a paper he had published for the Oxford Medical Journal on the concept of nanotechnoloy in the human body.

Nanobots, or molecular robots, were theorized to be able to take a particular sequence of dna and 'clean it' free of mutation thereby restoring the host's dna to what it should or could be. The implications of this were astounding: eliminating muggle cancer and stopping the aging process being just a few. And though Muggle technology was still decades, possibly centuries, away from accomplishing this goal, Michael had postulated that it very well could come to pass that humans attain immortality through the use of this technology.

Hermione had realized the crossing of their disciplines would help further her own research and had maintained a friendly email correspondence with him for over two years as she steadily worked to realize her goal.

Although from Britain, Michael actually lived and worked in the United States, and had only just come back to London for an extended stay in order to spend time with his family and take advantage of his close proximity in order to meet her.

Even so, their dates had been few and far between due to Hermione's demanding work schedule, and more often than not, they had consisted of talking through the Muggle use of Skype: the both of them eating the same delivered takeout and watching the same movie on their respective laptops until exhausted, Hermione fell to sleep.

And so, she had only met him a handful of times.

And he had no idea she was a witch.

"Hermione, love. Are you ready?"

She blinked, coming back to herself and nodded, once more taking in their opulent surroundings as Michael led them to the front desk and began the process of checking them in.

They were in the Appalachian Mountains on the very western edge of the state of North Carolina. Their hotel was a modern wood-worked and stone structure that did more to blend in with the surrounding mountainside than stick out from it.

And overall, the effect was enchanting. She could feel the beat, the _aura_ of the place as one conducive to rest and renewal.

Michael handed her a key card as an attendant took their bags and escorted them to an elevator. "Your room is on the top floor, right across the hall from mine," he muttered.

She raised a solitary eyebrow, and whispered lowly for his ear alone, "Well, there goes my fantasy involving the two of us and connecting doors…"

He tapped her on the nose. "Fantasies abound this week, sugar. Don't limit yourself to just one."

He winked, and blushing, she laughed.

Oh, Michael made it no secret that he wanted her in his bed, but she had been hesitant to do so. Her lovers had been very few and far between, and even though she liked him, something always held her back.

The three of them—the attendant, Michael and she—boarded the elevator, and as the door closed, Hermione had the strangest impression of being crowded in on all sides. It was ridiculous; there was plenty of room between her and the men to her left.

And yet, she felt small—dwarfed somehow—as if she was standing in an elevator crammed full of men taller than she. It was a curious sensation.

Jet lag.

It must be catching up with her.

The elevator slowed to a stop, and the attendant led her straight to her room.

Doing a quick mental calculation, Hermione figured it was almost two a.m. in Great Britain; well past her usual bed time.

"All set then?" Michael asked her from the doorway.

She nodded, just barely stifling a yawn.

Dismissing the attendant, Michael smirked as he made his way towards her. "Well, get some rest, sweets." He drew her into his arms and met her gaze. "I've got plans for you tomorrow."

"Hmm, sounds ominous," she teased.

Leaning down, he whispered lowly in her ear, "Quite. Now that I've finally got you in my clutches, I'm prepared to have my wicked way with you." She shivered in delight as she felt his warm breath caress the shell of her ear.

So saying, he placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. "G'nite, Hermione, love. Sweet dreams." And then he was gone.

Drawing a trembling breath, Hermione leaned heavily against the closed door. Yes, it just might lead to more, indeed.

She stepped away from the door, and as she did so, recalled fully just how tired she felt. Her eyes drifted to the comfortable looking bed that was giving her a siren's call positioned dead-center in the room.

She straightened her shoulders.

Bath first.

Brush teeth.

Bed to follow.

Wearily, she made her way to her luggage, and rifling through it, found her toiletries and robe. Kicking off her shoes, she padded to the bathroom in her stocking feet, and turning on the faucet to its warmest setting, she undressed as she waited for the tub to fill.

Upon realizing she had forgotten to grab her toothbrush, she donned her robe, and went back to the bedroom to retrieve it—stopping short.

Someone—_or something_— was in the room with her.

Making a quick scan of the area, she crossed the room in two strides and tore through her luggage until she found her old beaded bag. And reaching in up to the elbow, she pulled out her wand and aimed at the place where she felt the presence the most.

"_Homenum Revelio_." Her voice shook as she said the spell.

Nothing happened.

Pitching her voice lethally low, she stated, "If you are a ghost, I demand you make your presence known."

She waited, yet nothing revealed itself to her. Still holding her wand steadily, she drew the edges of her robe tighter about herself feeling uncomfortably exposed.

A few seconds later, the feeling of being watched lessened and then went away altogether, and she drew a deep, shaky breath.

Paranoid. That's all she was.

Paranoid and tired.

It was just too quiet, and the room needed a little noise. Grabbing her toothbrush and the remote, she flipped on the television and channel-surfed until she found an old muggle movie that she hadn't seen in years. Casting the _muffliato_ charm on the room, she turned the volume up to its highest setting so that she could hear the male lead crooning from the bath, and she proceeded to take down her hair.

Bath first.

Brush teeth.

Bed to follow.

She repeated this to herself as a mantra.

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"I thought you said she couldn't sense us!" Severus's voice shook with suppressed rage.

"She's not supposed to," Lucius replied warily, his tone sounding concerned.

They had followed Ms. Granger and the interloping Mic onto the elevator, hearing Ms. Granger's whispered innuendo and Mic the Dick's glib rejoinder. They had watched the two of them say their good night's and Severus's blood had boiled to see the Mic take her into his arms and kiss her—well, give her a kiss on the cheek, _but still_! The muggle needed to keep his distance!

And then she had closed her door and leaned against it, looking so rosy cheeked and dewy eyed at the prospect of that muggle bastard, Severus had let loose a nearly incoherent volley of swear words that had berated the muggle's parentage, his intelligence, his looks, and ultimately, his right to life.

Lucius and he had looked on as she sifted through her things, unpacking the muggle way. Tedious.

But once Severus and Lucius had heard the faucet turn on for the bath, they had begun making their way across the room to the front door in order to give her privacy. But then she had come out of the bathroom in a hastily done-up robe that had served very little to conceal the fact that she was without a stitch on, and she had froze to the spot—at once sensing them— like a rabbit caught in the crosshairs of a muggle gun.

Severus's heart hurt at the memory.

And then he saw her react, the Gryffindor lioness readying herself for battle, tearing through her luggage and grabbing for her wand—oh, but it was so careless of her to not have it within arm's reach!— and then she was pointing it exactly at the spot by the front door where he and Lucius stood.

They had quickly departed and now stood outside her room in the hall.

"She's not supposed to sense us…" Lucius answered, "but then, this spell was tailored for _muggle_ women…"

Muggle women, Severus thought, ultimately did not believe in such things as ghosts, ghouls, goblins, and things that went bump in the night for they couldn't see them. Ms. Granger, however, could, and the woman had the honed senses of an experienced war veteran to tell when she was being watched.

Severus crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Well, what do we do now?"

The implications of what they had done had not fully registered for him until just a moment ago, and he was livid. A little theoretical dream-spying was a hell of a lot different from the reality of what had just occurred. They had, in short, egregiously violated Ms. Granger's right to privacy. They had trespassed on her moment of solitude. They had made what was supposed to be her vacation into a state of suspicion.

She didn't deserve to be preyed upon in such a way.

"Oh do get over yourself, Severus."

His jaw and fists clenched, Severus looked at Lucius in disgust,

Lucius returned his look measure for measure. "Our plan still holds true."

"Bollocks the plan!" Severus exploded, pointing at her door. "That girl has done nothing to deserve this! She has been our ally and has saved us both from utter public and financial ruin. If this is ever found out, Lucius, Ms. Granger will never speak to us again, and so help me, if your scheming has cost me her friendship," Severus drew a deep breath and meeting Lucius's gaze, said lowly, "I will end you."

Breaking away, Severus stalked deliberately towards the stairwell and away from the blond bastard.

"And just where do you think you're going?"

"Away." Cursing his intangible existence—because he really wanted the satisfaction of slamming a goddamned door— Severus stepped through the closed door to the stairwell and began making his way outside.

At any other moment, the researcher in Severus would want to investigate this non-corporeal state he was in and test just what its properties and limits were. But right now? He had to draw several deep, calming breaths, feeling so much emotion come upon him that it threatened to overwhelm him.

Occluding it was not healthy.

If there was anything the last nine years had taught him, it was that. He had occluded away his emotions for decades to the point that he became a husk of the man he was: nothing to feel and nothing left to give.

Never wanting to return to that place again, Severus had made it a point over the years to catalogue his emotions and put them into perspective.

His anger was there bubbling at the surface, ready to boil over. He forced himself to confront his anger first. Anger was easy; it came effortlessly to him and was easiest to deal with. Of course, he could not defuse it, as he had in the past, by taking out his frustration on hapless Hogwarts students or –in the more recent past—the underlings that worked for him.

In the current intangible state of his existence, he could do nothing material to vent his rage.

And so he walked.

Out into the night, he walked, not caring where he was going or which direction. There was moonlight, there was forest. He could feel the breeze and smell the pine-scented air, thank Merlin for that.

He set out a punishing pace, cursing Lucius's scheming and his own weak nature for once again falling prey to it. He cursed himself viciously, telling himself he should have known better, that he should never have listened to the blond bastard in the first place.

He cursed her.

Ms. Granger—the reason all of this began. Why couldn't she be contented with what she had? Why did she need to go searching for… _a companion_. After all, she had plenty of companionship in Lucius, himself, and her staff of Slytherins. The chit _needed_ for nothing else!

And yet…

He had sensed a restlessness growing within her. And since he was being so brutally honest with himself, he had known for a while that she was lonely, and his behavior towards her had shifted accordingly.

It was not, after all, an unusual occurrence for the girl to put in a sixty or even an eighty hour work week in her lab. However, Severus now had her putting in well over ninety hours a week. And for what?

_So you could keep her close_, his inner thoughts whispered. _So she would be kept so busy, she would barely be able to breathe let alone think about dating anyone. _

And why would he want to keep her close, the messy-haired moppet that she was?

_You know the answer to that as well, Severus_, his traitorous inner voice retorted. _You've known for a while now._

Yet even as he thought it, his mind rebelled as those old thoughts —those ancient hurts— that he kept so tightly bound, began to reassert themselves.

Severus ruthlessly quashed them.

Over the years, he had gained some perspective since the Dark Lord had been vanquished and Lily avenged. And he had realized that he and Lily had shared a good friendship… a friendship that, had circumstances been different, might have become something more.

And so, thinking about her had begun to hurt less and less as time went on. And now, nearly three decades after her death, he was left with the good memories of the friendship they had shared and an easing of the bad.

And so, he walked.

He walked and allowed himself to think about becoming romantically involved—romantically involved with Ms. Granger.

There was just something about her.

Something so vexing and bewitching, that he —and apparently Lucius— had fallen quite into the deep because of it.

The woman had no limits to her curiosity.

Maybe it was the fact that she was muggle born and as such, thought that magic held no limits; maybe it was the fact that she was Gryffindor. But one thing was certain, she believed that if she set her mind to anything, anything was possible.

And thus far, this assertion of hers had been proven correct: defeating the Dark Lord… …yes; demanding equal rights and humane treatment for sentient magical beings including the damned house elves… …definitely; restoring the minds of Frank and Alice Longbottom… …but, of course.

After all, that is exactly what Lux Aeterna Industries did: made the impossible, possible. Over the years, Severus had learned to never underestimate her.

_And he loved her._

He stopped walking abruptly at the realization, and he felt the old feeling—the old panic— reassert itself, constricting his chest, threatening to choke him.

He let it come and accepted it: the fear, the anger, the certainty of loss— opening himself up to it all.

His emotions ran their course, and he let them, but not once did he let them overwhelm him. The simple truth was that he loved the witch. It was a fact.

And he had been too craven to tell her this outright, preferring to, as Lucius put it, _bury his head in the sand_ and let things go on as they were.

He loved her, and by the gods, if he didn't have the means at his disposal to determine if she could feel the same way. For regardless of the ethics of Lucius's scheming, the result remained that Severus had been given this chance.

And he was going to take it.

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By nature, Lucius Malfoy was not a very patient man, but he was skilled in the art of strategy.

And since his two principle playmates of the last few years had been denied him this evening, he decided to go in search of new prey, and he had just the victim in mind…

After all, it wasn't as if one could walk through walls every day, now was it?

Lucius strolled across the hall to the adjoining suite of rooms that housed Ms. Granger's Mic and following the sound of the muggle's voice, made himself comfortable on the settee as he watched the man pace while he talked on his muggle celly—whatsit.

"Yes, sir, Commandant, sir. Looks like everything's a go; we'll be there Friday night." There was a lull of conversation from the muggle's end as he listened intently to the words projecting from the little device. He responded, "No. As far as I know, she didn't even bring it with her."

Now that was curious. Rising, Lucius drew closer until he had his ear on level with the little device and could hear the words projecting from it.

The voice on the other end of the line was brusque. _Militant_. "— don't need to underestimate her. She could take you out with just a thought and that little stick of hers, boy."

Lucius felt a chill of apprehension slither down his spine.

"Yes, sir. I know it. I'll be careful."

"See that you do. A lot of lives are counting on this; not to mention the billions invested. Now, don't bollocks it up! Everything will be ready come Friday, twenty-one hundred. "

"Yes, sir. Fortenbrass signing out."

The muggle lowered the thing from his ear, and Lucius stepped back, cursing himself that he couldn't perform legilimency on the blackguard to ferret his plans.

Something told him that it boded very ill for one Hermione Granger.

Very ill indeed.

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_**A/N:**_ **!**House-point trivia time for you, my readers**!**:

The first reader who guesses correctly which movie Hermione was watching as she went into the bath will get FIVE points for his/her house and a shout-out from yours truly in my next update. Now, I realize I did not give a lot of description, but before you throw up your hands and exclaim "That's not fair!", do your research. ;D

Please include your Hogwarts house affiliation in with your response.

Good Luck and Blessed Be,

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	6. These Dreams, Night One: part I

Ch. 6— These Dreams, Night One: part I

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Severus made it back to Hermione's hotel room to see Lucius camped outside her door; his expression was tight—haunted. In fact, Severus couldn't remember seeing him thus since the war.

"What's happened?"

"We may have a bit of a… situation."

Severus felt a knot of dread form in the pit of his stomach. Anytime any one of his acquaintance mentioned those words, bad things happened. Very bad things.

"What is it? Is it Hermion—Ms. Granger? Is she ill?" Severus very nearly walked through the wall but for Lucius's restraining arm. It was curious. In this state, they could touch one another, but they had no contact with the outside world.

He shrugged it off and turned to face him. "Dammit! Tell me!"

"Calm yourself, Severus! Ms. Granger is fine… _for the moment_."

Severus closed his eyes as those words pierced him. "What do you mean 'for the moment'?"

Lucius rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean that Ms. Granger's muggle Mic may have another agenda in play other than playing at happy families with her. I believe that the man is out to take something from her…or entrap her in some way. And it gets worse."

Severus eyebrows rose as he waited for Lucius to continue.

Lucius sighed. "I suspect that the muggle Mic is aware that she is a witch _and_ the Muggle Ministry is involved."

"Explain." Severus demanded.

And so Lucius did, telling Severus verbatim everything that transpired over the course of the few minute conversation that he had overheard.

"And so Friday, the man—this Commandant—said?" Severus asked.

"Friday at Twenty-one hundred." Lucius looked perplexed. "It might be an impartial address of some sort..."

Severus rubbed at the bridge of his nose trying to relieve the tension headache that had taken root there. "It's nine o'clock, muggle military time."

Lucius looked at him questioningly.

Severus shrugged. "My father enjoyed his muggle military programs."

At length, Severus spoke again, ticking points off his fingers, "Alright, in our altered states, we cannot notify anyone of Ms. Granger's tenuous position, we can only communicate with her via her dreams for she is the only one to whom we coded the spell, and we are not going to be restored to our corporeal selves until Sunday afternoon. Thus, whatever the bastard has planned for her will be well underway by the time the spell wears off, unless we can think of some way to stop it."

Lucius raised a laconic eyebrow. "The only way to stop the curse is for it to wear off after the designated number of days, or if Ms. Granger acknowledges our presence as actually being there with her _and_ willingly invites the both of us to share her bed."

"So it's hopeless then?" Severus dead-panned.

Lucius smiled. "Not quite. We have five days, mon frère. Well, five nights actually, in order to woo the lovely Ms. Granger and press our suit."

Severus gave a snort of disgust. "It will never happen."

"And oh, how I do love your optimism, Severus!" Clapping his friend hard on the back, Lucius walked into Ms. Granger's suite of rooms.

Reluctantly, Severus followed.

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Ms. Granger was asleep with the muggle television playing softly in the background.

Lucius wished he could turn the thing off; it was distracting.

As it was, he stood by the bedside and studied the sleeping witch. She was curled on her side, nestled against a small mountain of pillows, her hand buried under her cheek and concealed by a mound of unruly curls. The bedclothes covered her from her nose to toes, as it's said, and she was effectively concealed from his gaze.

It was a shame too for he did wonder if she slept in a night-rail or in the altogether. Some things would remain a mystery it seemed…at least, for another night.

Softly, he placed his hand near hers where it rested under her cheek. She shied away, burrowing deeper under the covers and the mound of pillows behind her back. Lucius sat back and studied her.

Sleeping as she was, the girl reminded him the pet fidelepus he had kept as a child: the rabbit-like creature burrowed under his bedcovers until nothing but its furry nose remained exposed. And it, too, refused to share the bed. He had had to wait until the thing fell asleep before he could crawl into his own bed and do the same. Yet, when he did so, the little creature inevitably curled up next to him in its sleep.

Lucius smiled softly at the memory.

One of Hermione's curls had fallen across her eyes, and absently, he reached to tuck it away as he had done more times than either of them could count when they had been working late in the lab.

Gasping, he felt a jolt fill his system; his form thrumming with energy. For just a second, a moment, he had entered into her sleep—her dreams.

She mumbled something and turned over onto her back, flinging her hand above her head to cover her eyes as she settled back into sleep.

Lucius drew back, short of breath.

"What happened?" Severus whispered. And then he felt like a dunderhead for doing so because it was obvious that Hermio—Ms. Granger couldn't hear him.

Looking a bit dazed, Lucius looked up at him and blinked. "I—I believe I just fed from her dreams."

"You what?!"

"Fed from her." Lucius shook his head as if to clear it. "There—there has to be some previously established connection, Severus. If she wakes up, then the game is finished, and so, there has to be some kind of trust formed between the two of us in the real world before she would allow me to enter her mind and… _feed_."

Severus grew apprehensive at this.

"I always tuck a lock of that outrageously abundant mess of hair of hers behind her ear. No matter what she does with it, a strand is always in the way," Lucius mumbled.

He had a look of awe and affection on his face as he stared at her. He didn't reach out, but Severus could see that he wanted to. He wanted to return to Ms. Grang—Hermione's dream world.

Lucius motioned for him to join him near her bed, and said faintly, "The night is waning, Severus."

Severus shook his head, not even knowing where to begin.

He had never touched her. Not really. He passed her things from time to time, but he was always careful to never allow his hands to brush against hers when he did so, and he kept a professional distance, as he did from everyone, at all times.

At all times… save when they argued.

When they did so, they did spectacularly, getting into one another's faces, invading each other's personal spaces, pointing fingers, and almost connecting noses.

But the only thing that ever truly mingled… was their breath.

Dear Merlin. He swallowed reflexively, his body flooded with a combination anticipation and apprehension. Hermione was used to him getting in her face, yelling at her, condescending to her. Over the years, the girl had learned to give as good as she got.

Kneeling by her bedside, Severus drew a deep breath, and as carefully as possible not to touch any other part of her, he put his face as close to hers as he dared.

He smelled the clean mint of her toothpaste, felt the warm puff of air as it christened his cheeks from the force of her exhalation, and then he breathed out, letting his insubstantial breath mingle with that of her own.

A jolt of electricity ran through his system, shocking in intensity.

Images appeared rapid-fire in his mind's eye, and faster than he could catalogue them, they were gone. He broke their connection with a gulp of air, feeling as if he had dived headlong into the ocean and had only barely broke surface in time to prevent himself from drowning.

He looked over at Lucius: the man still looked like he hadn't recovered, slouched as he was by the other side of the bed.

"Puh—" Severus tried to speak. Swallowing thickly, he cleared his throat and tried again. "Perhaps we should try putting our occlumency shields in place."

Lucius nodded once, and drew an imperceptibly small breath.

Severus knew that his friend was counting down. With each number, another emotion and thought ceased holding sway. As Severus watched, Lucius's earth-shaken, alarmed gaze began to withdraw and his characteristically untroubled expression took its place.

"I think the word 'intense' is too insipid for what just transpired. Don't you, Severus?"

He didn't trust himself to answer; his mind and body were still abuzz. And like Lucius, he took a nearly imperceptible breath and began counting down.

Five… his rampaging thoughts shut down.

Four… his emotions became removed from himself.

Three… He buried his thoughts and emotions deeply, so deep they could not be accessed within the vault of his memory palace.

Two… He focused on the present situation: who he was with and the current objective to be met.

One…

Severus opened his eyes to see Lucius gazing back at him: the both of them had the same look of 'silent scorn' on their faces and to many, this would seem their default setting. Together, they turned and faced the sleeping witch lying before them.

"On three?" Severus proposed.

"One." Lucius replied.

"Two." Severus countered.

"Three." Severus leaned in close to her lips and Lucius reached for the curl at her nape.

And then they were both of them propelled headlong into the dream world of Ms. Granger.

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Lucius and Severus landed softly on a stone precipice behind Ms. Granger as she stood facing… well, he was a man that looked remarkably like Lucius but with more ostentatious hair. The setting was Hogwarts, and then it wasn't. The staircases were moving, all of them back and forth and up and down. Some of them were on their sides and others were upside-down. The effect created a labyrinth of sorts, and a teenage Hermione Granger complete with her Hogwarts uniform stood with arms crossed and a frustrated look on her face. She was looking for something—frantically so— and then she began to run. "RON!" she yelled. Severus and Lucius looked up. A red-headed Ronald Weasley stood leagues above her on a staircase. But as they all watched, he turned a corner a disappeared.

Ms. Granger ran on. Up and down various flights of stairs.

"RON!" she repeatedly yelled.

The man who looked like Lucius came up behind her.

She said, out of breath, "Give me the child."

The man spoke, "Everything I've done, I've done for you. I move the stars for no one." As he spoke, the man began manipulating a glass orb in his hand, spinning and twisting it so that it reflected the light. Inside, Severus and Lucius could see the form of Ronald Weasley looking out.

"Give me the child," she repeated.

"Hermione, beware. I have been generous up 'til now. I can be cruel." And Lucius and Severus watched as the blond man's face morphed into that of the Dark Lord's.

They both had to fight an instinctive response to bow, and Severus grit his jaw as his pulse reacted and his occlumency shields were tested to their limit. If these were the girl's dreams, he didn't know if he would be able to withstand them.

Ms. Granger, however, kept her head raised as she met his snake-like, red eyes. "Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City to take back the child that you have stolen. For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great..."

Thunder began rumbling in the distance. "_The_ _child_." The Dark Lord laughed maniacally, and suddenly they were all four of them plunged onto the green of Hogwarts, on the eve of the final battle.

"For my will is as strong as yours, my kingdom as great..." she repeated in a lost voice looking all around her. The final battle raged until there were so many fallen, the ground was littered with bodies of the dead and dying. "Children." The Dark Lord laughed. "The old fool sent children to fight —to die—as lambs to the slaughter."

One by one, each of Ms. Granger's classmates fell until only the three of them: Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and she remained standing.

And then suddenly, the form of Ronald Weasley crumpled to the ground.

Like a marionette whose strings were cut, Ms. Granger fell, boneless to the earth. Harry Potter was the only one that remained standing.

Clutching the boy's limp red head in her lap, Ms. Granger cried softly, "…you have no power over me."

The Dark Lord laughed again.

She looked up and met his eyes. "Do you hear me, you snake-headed bastard! You have no power over me!"

He ceased his laughing and looked at her speculatively. Severus felt his hands tighten reflexively at the Dark Lord drew his wand.

Gently laying the boy's head to rest on the ground, she rose and walked toward the Dark Lord. "YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER ME!" she yelled defiantly, and then she was walking through him. The form of the Dark Lord faded behind her like mist vanishing from a steaming cauldron.

The dream shifted.

"Hermione, dear. Come set the table."

"But, mum. Denny and Erik said I could come to their house for dinner. Their mum's making extra."

A young Hermione Granger squealed and laughed as she was picked up and tossed about by her father. "Do you hear that, Joan? Little Jean here thinks it's okay to abandon her family and go tromping off god knows where with the neighborhood scamps."

The dream shifted again and an older Ms. Granger sat by both Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley inside a tent—the tent in which they had used to hide during their final year of schooling.

"I'm so cold." she muttered to the two of them. "I just—I can't seem to get warm."

Potter held out his hand. "Give me the locket, Hermione. You've had it long enough." His voice sounded deadened, tired.

"No. It's not your turn yet. I can… h-hold on for a f-few minutes more."

A few minutes passed and her teeth started to chatter audibly.

Severus and Lucius watched, as simultaneously, both Weasley and Potter noticed the change in their friend. "Blimey, Hermione. Give Harry the locket. Now!"

"I c-can't." She struggled to say around clenched, shivering teeth, "m-my h-hands' are fffrozen ar-round it!"

"Merlin! Harry! What do we do?" Weasley looked stricken.

"Hot water! Ron! We need lots of it!"

"Nnnooo!" she shrieked, "Luke-wwarm." She shook her head violently. "N-nott hott!"

"Are you sure?"

She nodded desperately. "Hharry, ffrostt-bbite… …m-my ffffingersss w-willl ssnnapp ifff toooo hhott. I h-have h-hy-hypo-th-thermia, it leeeadss t-tto shhock."

The boy nodded just as Weasley came back with a conjured bucket-full of steaming water. Potter quickly checked the temperature and performed a spell to cool it a bit more, and then the two of them began to gently soak the area where Ms. Granger clutched the locket holding Tom Riddle's grotty soul.

But Severus and Lucius could see from where he stood that the water froze upon contact, thereby only making the problem worse. Her lips were tingeing blue, and she was beginning to go into the mid-stages of shock. The symptoms of hypothermia had set in now, and already, her shivering had lessened considerably. Weasley mistook this for a good sign. "That's it, Hermione. Fight it! That's our girl!"

She could only look at him and lethargically shake her head, her eyes pleading for them to understand.

"Ron, this is not working. We've got to do something else." Agonizing moments past as Ms. Granger's shivering continued to abate and then ceased altogether. Potter cast periodic warming charms, and brought the jars of blue-bell flame over to warm her. The jars flickered and died when they drew close. And the warming charms were doing nothing for the girl that was literally freezing to death before them.

"It's the locket—isn't it?" Weasley asked, his eyes narrowed.

Potter looked at him as if he were dense. Severus was tempted to do the same—even within the confines of Ms. Granger's dreamscape.

The Weasley boy licked his lips. "Look, it's doing this to her. The locket is a bit of his soul, Harry. Didn't Dumbledore say that you-know-who can't stand the thought of love? He can't touch it. It's agony to him, right?"

"Well, yeah. But—"

The red-headed boy nodded, "Right, then. You take her back, I'll take her front. Begin to massage her, but careful now. We don't want to bruise and break her."

"Ron, wh—what are we…?"

The red headed young man looked up from fiddling with the zip on Ms. Granger's jacket and gave Potter a level look. "We are going to give Hermione our love, Harry."

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The dream shifted, but the scenery stayed the same. They were still in the tent, and Severus and Lucius were looking down on three tousle-headed sleeping teenagers tucked beneath a pile of blankets: the two Mess'rs Weasley and Potter were sleeping curled up to the form of one Ms. Granger who was occupying the space between them. Ms. Granger was the first to awaken, her eyes fluttering open and falling on the shock of red hair that lay to her left.

She smiled gently and reached out for him.

"Hermione?"

Startled, she turned, her eyes widening as she saw Potter lying next to her.

"Are you alright then?" The boy looked uncertain, afraid. "You know you really gave us a scare."

She licked her lips. "Wh-what happened?"

"Tom Riddle's locket is what happened." Potter replied, loathing filling each word. "But it's gone now. We destroyed it."

"Wha—?!" Her eyes widened.

"Hermione." The ginger-headed boy croaked as he woke. Suddenly, he shot up and pulled her into a rough embrace. "Hermione! Thank gods you're okay!"

She smiled and returned the embrace. "Yes, bu—Ron you're undressed!"

The boy's ears immediately began to turn red as he winced. "Not completely. Nearly though." He lowered the blankets to reveal a pair of faded boxer-briefs. "And I hate to point out the minister has no clothes on, but… 'Mi…"

The four men watched as she gulped and self-consciously drew the blankets more tightly around her naked form. "What happened last night?" she asked in a small voice.

She looked from one to the both of them for an explanation, and it was Potter who broke first.

"Ron and I—we—_he_ saved your life. We couldn't get the damned locket away from you. Nothing was working, and we were literally going to have to pry it from your cold, dead fingertips… and that's when Ron—well, he got the idea to—" The boy stopped, blushing scarlet, and shook his head. It was clear he couldn't go on.

Weasley took her hand that was clutching the blanket so tightly, and prying it away finger by finger, lifted it to his lips. "We made love to you, 'Mi. The locket couldn't stand it. It couldn't stand to feel our love pouring into you, through you, and it… it had to let you go."

It was so silent in the small tent, Lucius could have sworn he could hear a doxy wing drop. The two boys watched her carefully, waiting for her reaction.

At length, she said, "And the horcrux. it's...?"

"Gone—destroyed." Potter held up the now broken locket before her eyes. He looked at her with a small smile as he whispered, "It seems love works just as well as any Sword of Gryffindor; at least, for _this_ particular horcrux."

She nodded, her throat working reflexively.

Seconds later, she pursed her lips and began to weep.

Both males instantly huddled around her, speaking in unison:

"Oh, 'Mi. Please, don't cry! It will be alri—"

"Hermione, we're sorry, we just couldn't think of another—"

She started to laugh. Laugh and cry, and hug them to her.

"I'm not upset!" she cried. "I'm…glad."

Both boys looked taken aback for a moment, but then Potter was the first to respond. "So you're not mad—truly?"

She looked over at him and smiled blearily through her tears. "No, how could I be? Your love saved my life!" And again, she drew them to her, hugging each of them close as they all three huddled together under the blankets, and her tears lessened.

Moments passed like this until Potter conjured a handkerchief, and holding it to her nose, entreated her to blow.

Snuffling, she did so, and allowed him to dry her remaining tears. "There now, you're less drippy."

Clutching the blankets to her chest and rising to her knees, she turned around to face Potter and Weasley. Lucius and Severus moved to the side so they could see her face. She said, "Thank you, Harry." and she kissed him on the cheek. She performed the same service for Weasley, and his ears burned scarlet as he nodded. She whispered, "You are truly the best of friends."

The two young men obviously had no idea what to say in such a situation, and so, wisely remained mute. Soon, however, a hint of mischief appeared in Ms. Granger's eyes as she looked at them both speculatively. "Mind, I suppose it would be too much to ask to have a repeat of the performance from last night since I seemed to have been a bit oblivious to the first?"

Astonished, the two young men could only stare mouths agape.

Blushing slightly, she let the blanket fall away exposing her nudity to the four men who stood staring at her. She shrugged. "I want to know what it was I missed when I was unconscious. I mean..." she bit her bottom lip. "it's not every day, a girl loses her virginity, you know? …and I _am_ very curious…"

Lucius felt a pressure on his arm and looked over. Severus nodded to the tent entrance and Lucius returned the nod.

Taking a breath, Lucius and Severus both pulled out of Hermione's dreams.

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_**A/N:**_ Honorable mention goes to marianna79 and nostalgiakills for their excellent guesses. Thank you so much for playing along! Alas, I did not get to award house points. :( The movie was _Labyrinth_—which I used lines from in the above chapter and do not own btw— and the hint was given in my author's note. "That's not fare." is Sarah's catchphrase throughout the entire movie.

But I digress… I realize this chapter is a bit…controversial, and so I am going to send on part II later on today as well for I abhor an evil cliffie and we all of us need us some Severus luv.

Thanks so much for reading, and please drop me a line to let me know how I'm doing!

xxkattiaxx


	7. These Dreams, Night One: part II

Ch. 7— These Dreams, Night One: part II

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Lucius came back to the side of the bed with a start. He glanced up to find Severus was studying the sleeping witch. Even as they both watched, she turned, until her back was to them, now facing the mound of pillows at her side, cuddling deeply into it.

The purpose of that mound now escaped neither of their notice.

They made their way to her sitting room, and Lucius sat with less than his usual grace on the settee. Severus sat in the wingback chair and hunched forward, his hands clasped together between his bent knees as he gazed into nothingness.

Neither spoke for a very long moment.

"What…" Severus began, "was your intention when you entered her dreams?"

Lucius looked mildly offended. "Why do you want to know that?"

Severus met his questioning gaze. "I'm trying to determine if we influenced Ms. Granger's dreams in some way. She… the nature of those dreams were… it can't be coincidence."

Lucius shook his head. "No, most certainly not." He gestured casually. "I wanted to find out if she ever had thought of pursuing a polyamorous relationship."

Severus nodded faintly. "It seems we were given more of a memory-recall than a dreamscape. At least, after the first dream shifted. Did you notice the change?"

Lucius nodded. "Yes, I gathered as much. Everything was much more tangible, less fluid. What was your intention, Severus?"

The sallow-skinned man colored up a bit at the question, but he spoke the truth evenly. "I wanted to find out how she felt about us; if she is at all romantically inclined to the suit of one or both of us."

Lucius nodded, his jaw grit tight. "It seems we are only allowed one scene at a time for I think it's safe to assume my objective was met."

"Quite." Severus responded tightly.

The both of them were alternately disturbed and intrigued by what they had seen, and sat in contemplative silence, trying to come to terms with it.

It was Severus who again broke the silence. "I would also like to know what became of the relationship between her and Potter. Weasley perished in the final battle, but as far as I can tell, he and Ms. Granger are no longer on speaking terms."

Glancing at his pocket watch, Lucius said, "We have three and a half more hours until the sun comes up. Ms. Granger may have entered into another dreaming sleep by now. Are you ready to try again?"

Severus shook his head. "What we're doing to her is unforgiveable." His voice was even, but his eyes were miserable as they met the silver of Lucius's.

Lucius rose and stood over him. "What we're doing to her is attempting to show her a far better mode of life, Severus, if she'll have us, than if she didn't. And let's not forget that we're trying to save her from that blackguard across the hall who has Gods know what in store for her."

He sighed. "The first dreaming sequence was jarring and invasive, I'll grant you that. But as we gain more experience, and Ms. Granger grows more accustomed at granting us access to her dreams, she will begin to allow us liberty in choosing the setting of her dreams, and as she grows more comfortable with the two of us, she will begin to trust us to guide her where we wish. We are all three of us learning, Severus. Have faith."

With a deep, calming breath, Severus rose and followed Lucius back into the bedroom, but he put a restraining hand on Lucius before he could reach out to 'touch' Ms. Granger again. "And what is our intention for this sequence?"

Lucius smiled, and for a moment, Severus could see a teasing light fill his eyes before his occlumency shields fell down once more. "Why, let's find out what our dear Ms. Granger thinks of you, Severus." So saying, Lucius touched her, and Severus watched as Lucius's posture shifted to lying prone beside her.

Feeling more than slightly foolish, he positioned himself prone on top of the pillow-mound beside her and bent until his breath was just close enough to mingle with her own. He breathed in deeply, cataloguing her scent, and let his breath out, closing his eyes as he was tossed once more into her dreams.

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"You are being extraordinarily obtuse about all of this, Severus."

"And you're being your usual know-it-all self, Ms. Granger."

"Just because my results are plain as the over-large nose on your face, doesn't give you the right…."

Severus blinked and looked around. He and Ms. Granger were in his lab at Lux Aeterna. And he was himself: _he was Severus Snape_, actively participating in her dream, not looking on. He was there _interacting_ in her dream… or rather in her memory. For that is what this dreamscape was: a memory.

And one that had occurred just recently.

She was standing in front of him wearing her usual work uniform of dark slacks, tailored button-down shirt, and white lab coat. Her hair was only just managed by a clip that looked filled to capacity. She held a sheaf of papers in her hand, waving them in his face as she spoke; "If you'd only just sign off and let me begin testing…" her tone wheedled.

He hated it when she wheedled.

"Absolutely not!" he heard himself respond. It was the strangest sensation, being a part of her dream and not. It was almost as if he was compelled to act the way she wanted him or expected him to—a bit like the _Imperius_ curse. "You are still leagues away from proving your initial hypothesis, Ms. Granger. And until that is proven, I cannot, in good faith, give a 'sign-off' as you put it to your testing of this experiment. It's protocol."

The papers fell to the floor, and Severus had a moment to register that this was not how the actual conversation had progressed, before his hands—and mouth—were filled to capacity with very angry, and very tasty, female.

She kissed him in a frenzy—all teeth and tongue—gnashing into his mouth as she battled him for dominance. He felt the dream-like compulsion to continue to kiss her, to clutch and tear at her clothes, to truly control, and thus, submit to her subconscious desire for him.

He broke away instead, looking down on her and breathing heavily.

Resting her bowed head on his sternum, she drew a ragged breath. "Why can't you, just once, Severus, let me have my way?" Her voice was small and plaintive.

He gulped and drew her chin gently up with his index finger so that her sherry-colored eyes met his. "And what way is that, Ms. Granger?" he asked softly.

She blinked as if not expecting this turn of events. "You denied my testing," she said.

"You didn't follow the proper sequence of protocol," he rejoined.

"You refused to look at my findings."

"Your findings are meaningless without testing to support them."

"You're holding me tightly to you."

"You're choosing to be held," he mumbled.

Minutely, she nodded, and once more laid her head on his chest, right near the area of his heart.

Severus closed his eyes and let the tide of emotion come— the elation, the amazed astonishment that there actually _could_ be something between him and the witch he was holding in his arms. They stayed that way for minutes—possibly hours—he didn't know, but he did know that he never wanted this feeling to end.

Eventually, however, he felt eyes upon him, and he opened his own to find Lucius hovering in the doorway with a cat-that-lapped-the-cream expression on his face. He gestured to his watch, and nodded to the door. Ms. Granger had still, yet, to notice Lucius's presence.

Severus made to distance himself from her, but she held tighter still.

"No. You can't." She shook her head and burrowed deeper into his embrace. "You'll just go back to alternately hating and ignoring me, and calling me _stupid little know-it-_all," she gave a pitch-perfect imitation of him, "when we argue."

"Ms. Granger… Hermione."

She looked up, her eyes wide.

"I vow never to call you 'stupid little know-it-all' again. And as for the rest, I have neither hated you, nor found your presence something I could possibly ignore. Now, you must let me go. You need your rest. Dreams are not meant to last so long." So saying, Severus gently separated himself, and with a thought, was once more standing by her bed watching as she gave a quiet sigh and slept on.

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_**A/N:**_ Do drop me a line to let me know what you think, won't you?

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	8. Sizing Up the Competition

Ch. 8— Sizing Up the Competition

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Hermione awoke, blinking fuzzily into the early morning light. She had dreamed last night, she just knew she did, but they were hazy things, out of focus: vapors of images and thoughts that she couldn't exactly recall.

Groaning, she slowly unburied herself from the mound of blankets and pillows, and rising from the bed, padded barefoot to the bathroom.

Once finished and still bleary-eyed, she pawed through her luggage until she found a tank top, sports-bra, her running shorts, and trainers, and scraping back her bed-head hair into a bushy bun at her nape, she grabbed the hotel keycard, and left her room. Never one to sleep in, even while on vacation, she resolved to keep to her morning routine and go for her usual run. Michael had told her the hotel they were in had a state-of-the-art fitness center, and she was going to make use of it.

Letting herself in with her keycard, she nodded to herself, satisfied with the assortment of equipment she found there. Treadmills and ellipticals stood in a row; there were free weights and weight machines, and an assortment of yoga mats all along a mirrored wall.

Mounting a treadmill, she pressed a button and began to jog lightly while she was still half-asleep, so her body didn't realize what she was asking it to do so early in the morning. She built up a natural, steady rhythm, and as her mind wandered, unbidden, her thoughts circled to Severus Snape.

A warm, comfortable feeling came over her at the thought of him, but it was so foreign, she quickly quashed it.

'Warm' and 'comfortable' were two adjectives that didn't suit Severus at all. 'Inaccessible' and 'taciturn' were more like.

Over the years, Hermione had tried to befriend him; she had tried to bring him—piece-mill— out of that flinty shell of his, but it seemed the only person he was truly comfortable around was Lucius. And he was always so hesitant and seemingly indifferent around her. It was as if, when they weren't arguing or conversing about work, she was a non-entity or something to be avoided.

However, Severus did have his good points too.

After all, Lux Aeterna Industries might be the company that she had started, but the reasons that it had thrived belonged solely to Severus and Lucius.

She smiled as she thought of the many conversations that had taken place between the three of them: the brainstorming, theorizing, wondering whose pockets they could finesse for just a bit more dosh to fund some experimentation.

Severus was her lead-researcher, Lucius her theoretical charms specialist and Chief Financial Officer. And she was the name and face behind Lux Aeterna Industries: a non-profit organization dedicated to the betterment of the wizarding world.

In short, she was a lobbyist first, a scientist second, and a famous figurehead for the wizarding world—_ALWAYS_.

And she employed only Slytherins.

How much grief she had been given from the _Daily Prophet_ for this one decision alone, but dammit, someone had to hire them!

After the war, they were persecuted. The Ministry made them pay restitution, and many were put on the street because no one wanted to be associated with that kind of 'taint'. Those Slytherins involved in the war were forced to surrender their wands or leave the United Kingdom altogether, and children and wives of Death Eaters were treated the worst.

When she had seen her classmate Daphny Greengrass advertising her wares near the juncture of Diagon and Knockturn Alley, Hermione had vowed that she would make her situation a better one, that she would fix the injustice that had been given to all Slytherins upon the Light winning the war. After all, World War II happened for just this reason: the rights and privileges of an entire nation taken away because they lost the war. And the Wizarding World was sowing the seeds of discontent once more for another Dark Lord to rise.

Someone had to change this, to reintegrate those that fought for the Dark Lord into wizarding society, and show them that their differences did not equate to hatred; that they could coexist peacefully.

And thus, the idea for Lux Aeterna, or Light Eternal, was formed.

It wasn't easy. By no means had it been easy. Hermione had to keep on her toes at all times around her Slytherins because they were always on the lookout for weakness and would always try and find a way to exploit it. There was always someone trying to run a con on her or double-scheme in some way.

It definitely made for an interesting work dynamic.

And yet, over the years, she had been rewarded in dividends because she had learned that never was there a more loyal and fierce friend than a Slytherin that had taken an active interest in one's welfare…

And too, over the years, she had proven to them that she also can be sneaksy.

With a determined grin, Hermione set the treadmill from 'jog' to 'run' and increased her pace accordingly.

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Lucius watched as Hermione began to run on the strange muggle contraption, a determined grin on her face. How he would dearly love to know what she was thinking at that moment to put that particular smile upon her cheek.

Severus and he had an unspoken agreement between them not to intrude upon her private time: when she was in the bathtub, dressing, etc, until they were certain she was abed. And so, they had camped out in her sitting room when she had awakened, and the two of them had followed her to the quaint muggle gymnasium, and watched as she boarded the torturous-looking device.

And even now, she was running; her form beautiful, but the aesthetic ruined by that piece of muggle machinery she was on. It was obvious she took pride in her body, just as she did in her mind. Well, perhaps not as much…she was missing the frivolities, the purely female pampering that seemed to come, at birth, to the sex, but in which Hermione always seemed to be lacking. Her excuse was that she never had time.

How he would dearly love to spend some time pampering her.

It wasn't often that he compared the two: Narcissa and Hermione. But occasionally, the acute disparity between them wanted for contemplation. Never would Narcissa have deigned to get up this early, let alone go for a _run_.

Running was undignified.

Oh, his dear estranged wife took pride in her appearance; that was true. But she was more inclined to not eat to keep her wand-slim figure than to partake of what she wanted and then work it off as Hermione was doing now.

Lucius's gaze softened a bit—and he felt other bits of his anatomy harden— as he watched her exert herself on the muggle machine. The top she wore left very little to the imagination. Oh, he supposed it was decent enough, but while she ran, her breasts jiggled slightly, her nipples hardened due to being chafed by the tight, black muggle corsette she wore under her pink sleeveless top.

She was magnificent; her runner's form beautiful.

But she didn't belong in such a sterilized setting as this… _muggle_ _fitness center_. If he could, he would see her running free on his grounds at the Manor. How he would love to look out his window of a morning and see her thus: hair done up in a messy bun, tight little top leaving little to the imagination, shorts that came up mid-thigh as she jiggled and ra—

"Getting an early start as well, I see." Lucius blinked back from his reverie and turned to see the Muggle Mic enter the gymnasium and mount a running machine beside her.

Lucius's stomach churned to see her smile warmly at the blackguard. "Good morning." she panted.

The muggle studied the instrumentation panel on her screen and whistled. "Geez. A fellow's got to get up pretty early in the morning to keep up with you, huh?" He grinned at her, and pressing a button on the device below him, began to run. It was obvious he was more than up to the challenge, and Lucius narrowed his eyes at the man's flagrant show of braggadocio.

Moving to stand closer to the pair, Lucius watched as they ran in tandem. They were a striking duo, he supposed, but Hermione did not have the muggle's polish, and Lucius really wouldn't have it any other way.

She _was_ beautiful; there was no doubt about that, but her charm lay in her warm smile and open heart. And it had taken Lucius far too long to realize that these were admirable traits when one was searching for a mate.

Meanwhile, the muggle beside her looked like he had stepped out of an advert from _Wizard GQ_.

The muggle looked at Hermione askance. "Do you lift, Granger?"

A panel on her machine beeped, and then she was slowing down from a run to a jog once more. After catching her breath, she answered, "Not really. I know I should, but I never have time. It's all I can do to get in my run in the mornings."

The muggle Mic tsk'd her, and shook his head. "Gotta make time, Granger." He pressed the button on his machine and increased his pace faster.

Smiling, she dismounted the running contraption. "You know what my work schedule's like," she said over the noise of his footfalls.

He met her eyes in the mirror. "Excuses, excuses."

Fetching a paper cone of water from the cooler, she turned and watched the muggle Mic's progress, a gleam of purely feminine appreciation in her eyes as she looked on.

Lucius looked over to Severus to find him with his jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists. _This could become problematic_. The last thing he needed was Severus forgetting himself and taking his jealousy out on the girl. They were trying to woo her, not remind her of reasons why she needed to stay away.

They all watched as the muggle Mic dismounted the running machine and gestured that she follow him to the freestanding weights by the mirror. "C'mere, Granger. Let me show you some moves."

She raised a solitary eyebrow as she sauntered—their Hermione actually sauntered—up to him. "What makes you think I don't have my own moves? Besides, you only call me 'Granger' when you want to challenge me. What's the challenge this time, Fortenbrass?"

A teasing gleam filled the muggle's pond-scum eyes. He contemplated it for a moment. "Oh, I don't know…show me what a beast you are with these weights, and I'll let you in on what I have planned for us this morning."

"Beast, huh?" She crossed her arms and looked up at him. "What are your terms?"

The muggle pretended to think, all the while sizing her up in a purely masculine way that let her know exactly how he felt about her. Lucius watched as her cheeks pinkened.

"How 'bout this: you bench-press five stone—that's thirty-five pounds each arm, three reps of two, and I'll let you know."

A teasing gleam filled her eyes as well as she circled him, placing her thumb to her chin. "And what happens if I don't?"

"It's the blind-fold for you, Granger."

She looked taken aback for a moment, but then she shrugged, "Sounds kinky. I'll try anything once…"

His eyes lit up with mischief. "Is that so? …Believe me, I'm getting ideas. Now get your perky arse over here, woman, and give it a go."

Laughing, she sat on the bench and lowered herself below the metal bar. She smiled cheekily up at the muggle. "So you think my arse is perky?"

"Only when you smile," he dead-panned.

"Oh!" She gasped, laughing.

"Granger, you know I'm over the moon for you, now—lift."

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"So you're taking me for a drive."

Severus watched as his Hermione finished bench-pressing the five stone of weight, her arms trembled slightly at the exertion as the Muggle leaned over her in pretense, Severus was sure, of making certain she could handle the weight.

The Mic bastard placed his hands over hers and lifted the weight away, securing it on the metal pegs above her head. "Not just any drive, Sweets, but the 'Tail of the Dragon'."

She smirked and sat up on the bench, looking over her shoulder provocatively at the Mic. "Is it anything like riding a real one?"

For a split second, the muggle looked taken aback, but then, the expression disappeared as he shrugged and smiled, "It's as close, I reckon, as a human can get."

Severus caught Lucius's eye and they both made silent acknowledgment of the exchange: it would bear discussing later.

"Now." The Mic clapped and rubbed his hands together. "Five stone was easy—easy, peasey for you, Granger. Let's say we up the ante…"

She nodded. "I'm listening."

"Six and a half. If you press six and a half stone, lady, not only will I think you're an absolute BEAST, but I'll let you drive the Dragon

Severus watched as Hermione bit her lip indecisively. "What happens if I don't?"

"I'm wounded you'd think there'd be a consequence." the Mic bastard rubbed the area near the vicinity of his heart.

She looked at him knowingly.

"But as it just so happens, …there is."

"Uh-huh." She nodded. "And what is it….?"

"If you fail to press six and half stone, Granger, you've got to go sky diving with me."

They all watched as her face lost its rosy hue, and she paled. "w-What?"

"Uh-huh." The bastard grinned and nodded. "If at any time during this week, you don't meet a challenge I've set for you, then it's skydiving tandem with me."

She shook her head, gulping. "Nuh-ugh. N-no way."

"Them's the stakes, lady." He sighed reluctantly. "And I do have such plans for you… but if you don't think you can press a measly six and a half stone…"

_Oh, but the Mic was playing her well,_ Severus thought. …_too well_; almost exactly as one of his Slytherins was wont to do when the occasion warranted it. The only problem was she trusted the interloping bastard whereas she was always looking for the angle in the Slytherin's conniving behavior. _Don't do it_, he urged her silently. _For once, Ms. Granger_, _do not live up to that foolhardy Gryffindor temperament of yours_!

She thought for a long moment, and then said, "Alright. I accept…. but I have a condition of my own."

The Mic narrowed his eyes. "Name it."

"If I complete every single one of your challenges you set for me this week, you have to take me to see Escala perform in concert at the MET this Sunday."

"And Escala plays….?"

"Contemporary Classical music. They're four women playing stringed instruments, and they're beautiful, so at least you'll have eye-candy while you're being cultured to death." She smiled beatifically.

Closing his eyes, the interloping bastard shook his head, and then he pointed at her, giving her a level stare. "First off, Granger. The only beautiful eye-candy I need is right in front of me. Second, I'll have you know I listened to a David Garrett cover of 'Thunderstruck' by AC/DC and loved it. So, alright. I accept your terms."

She held out her hand. "Shall we shake on it, then?"

The Mic bastard smiled and shook his head. "Oh, sweets, I have a much better idea." And grasping her extended hand, he bent down and proceeded to kiss her senseless.

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Hermione grinned as she washed her hair in the shower; she couldn't stop smiling.

She had done it! She had bench-pressed six and a half stone—TWICE!—, earning her the title of 'Beast' from Michael and an appreciative glance or two as well. He had talked her through it, adjusting her grip and knee placement, and given her encouragement—"I think you've got one more in you, Granger. C'mon, lift!" And she had! Putting everything she had into it, she grunted and groaned… and she had done it! Thereby, avoiding skydiving—_muggle skydiving, Merlin!_—tandem with him.

It wasn't that she didn't trust Michael, she did. After all, jumping out of airplanes was what the man did during his stint as a Mi6 operative, but…heights terrified her! And oh, how he knew just which button to push to motivate her!

She shook her head as she turned her back to the spray to rinse her hair.

Her pulse hammered in anticipation as she thought about the 'plans' he had alluded to. Michael was challenging her, as he always tended to do via email, and she loved it! It's what their four-year correspondence was based on after all.

Feeling so gods-damned happy of a sudden, Hermione picked a tune and, like countless others before her, began to massacre it by singing in the shower.

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Severus looked up from his seated position in the wingback chair in Hermione's sitting room. She was in the shower, and he could hear her singing to the top of her lungs, "_It's alriiight to have a good time, 'cuz it's alright, whoa, it's alright…_"

He swallowed thickly and looked over to find Lucius with a quizzical, half-smile on his face, listening intently as she sang.

Wishing he could enjoy the chit's song half as much, Severus's mind instead churned with what he had just seen. He was certain the muggle bastard knew she was a witch. There were certain tells of expression in the human face, and Severus had spotted them before the muggle Mic could cover it up with his glib smile.

When Hermione had asked him if the road—this 'Tail of the Dragon'— was 'anything _like riding a real dragon?_', the muggle Mic had, for just an instant, recognized the irony in her humor. He had covered quickly, but Severus—and Lucius, Severus was certain—had noticed.

Hermione hadn't. But why would she? She had never learned to read the minute micro-expressions of a face in order to further her aims, or survive, as both Lucius and he had done. This was purely a Slytherin tactic taught in-house, and besides, she was at ease with the Mic bastard! She trusted him!

Severus felt just as helpless as if he was a bystander watching a train wreck, and he could do nothing to stop it.

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"So this is the car, huh?" Hermione glanced up to Michael as he stood next to her. He was avidly watching her expression. She grinned hugely. "And it just so happens to be the one that I learned to drive on…."

"—when you spent that part of your summer in Bulgaria." Michael nodded and sniffed. "Yes. A coincidence, really."

She shook her head. "Four years of back and forth conversation via email, and this is what I get?" Hermione couldn't hide her pleased expression, not even to tease him. Oh, but the car was a beauty!

Michael tapped his head. "Steal trap, Granger. My mind is a steal trap. I remember everything!"

She looked at him skeptically. "Uh-huh, and what did we have for breakfast again?"

"Errm… I have a selective memory," Hermione squealed as he picked her up and nuzzled her neck, "a _very_ selective memory."

"Put me down! Michael, put me down!" Gods, he was driving her crazy! The smell of him, and the rasp of day-old stubble on his face as he nuzzled her neck. It was driving her wild!

He put her down, but in the driver seat of the 1968 cherry red Ford Mustang GT Convertible with the sweetest little white racing stripes down its sides. Hermione restrained herself from drumming on the leather-embossed steering wheel and squealing in delight—but only just. Vaulting over the passenger door, he landed agilely in the seat, and held the keys aloft for her to take.

She held out her hand, and he dropped them, but caught them back before she could catch them. He narrowed his eyes. "Granger, remind me again, just how did you learn to drive? You know, just so I'll feel comfortable risking life and limb here."

Smiling, she sighed, and sat back in the seat. "I don't own a car in London; it's hardly necessary. But when I was younger, I had an old boyfriend that I visited the summer after my fourth year of schooling. He was an exchange student on leave from his school in Bulgaria, and I was invited to stay with his family for a few weeks of summer hols.

"He, too, wanted to get me in the air to… errm, hanglide, because he was an expert… hanglider, but I steadfastly refused." She shot Michael a narrow-eyed look of scorn, and he countered her look with a close-mouthed smile filled with promise. She shook her head, and continued, "His father was an avid car collector, and as it happened, he had just restored a 1968 cherry red Ford Mustang GT Convertible. I took one look at it and fell in love. Viktor taught me how to drive it."

Michael nodded, looking too wide-eyed and trusting, "And this Viktor, is he…reputable…knowledgeable behind the wheel?"

Hermione bit her lip to keep from smiling. "Well, he was quite known for his athletic prowess… and he taught me how to drive defensively/border-line aggressively…so yes, I'd say he's quite reputable…and thorough… he was _very_ thorough."

For a moment, Michael narrowed his eyes. "Hmm, I don't know if I like the sound of that… and this very knowledgeable _and thorough_ Viktor taught you how to drive on the _wrong_ side of the road?"

She blushed and laughed. "Well, yes. That's the way they drive in Bulgaria and here in the States too which, fortunately for me, is just as well."

Michael nodded and blew out a puff of air, seeming to come to a decision. "Alright, Granger. Here's the keys." And he handed them to her, his hands clasping hers before she could pull away. Meeting her gaze, he winked. "Give 'em hell."

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Krum taught her how to drive?!

Mystified, Severus looked to Lucius only to see the same expression mirrored on his face.

Viktor Krum.

Severus didn't remember much of the goings-on of school that year. After all, that was the year the Dark Lord returned, but he did seem to recall the general uproar the castle was in concerning the Yule Ball, and one Hermione Granger in particular. Hermione Granger who had been escorted by none other than Viktor Krum.

And she had gone to stay with him at his family's estate in Bulgaria that following summer.

Hermione started the engine, and Severus had just enough time to vault in the backseat with Lucius falling in beside him before they were peeling out of the parking lot to the sound of screeching tires.

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"Alright, Granger. Here's some background on the 'Dragon'."

The muggle motor-car pulled to the side of an embankment, surrounded on all sides by a thick canopy of deciduous trees. And Lucius could see that Hermione was having the time of her life. Her eyes were bright, there was beautiful, blooming color in her cheeks, and she was practically vibrating in her excitement.

Gods, how he loved her!

So utterly transparent in her joy; she would not know the first thing about schooling her emotions in order to hide them. And he loved that about her. The only fly in the ointment to Lucius's thinking was that the muggle was here with the three of them. And he was the one that was making her smile thusly.

But Lucius had to admit that he would never have thought of granting this gift to her—her driving a muggle conveyance of all things! And Viktor Krum had taught her to do so.

Begrudgingly, Lucius did have to admit, there was something enchanting about riding in a muggle car…

After their initial moment of panic when the both of them had to scramble through the exposed roof onto the back bench, and Severus had nearly elbowed him blind, Lucius found that Hermione was a more-than competent driver. Confident and sure; the woman knew what she was doing… and Krum had taught her well, it seemed.

But come to think on it, he had never once seen her on a broomstick. She apparated, used the floo, or portkeyed as far as he knew, but he had never once seen her on a broom. And her reaction to the muggle's challenge of 'sky-diving' was telling, even if he didn't know what 'sky-diving' was.

As he observed her drive them to their location—this 'Tail of the Dragon' whatsit— Lucius couldn't help but admire the muggle blackguard's style. The Mic apparently knew Hermione very well, that was for certain. Four years? They had been communicating back and forth for four years, and Lucius and Severus had never even heard of him until four months ago. And all the while, the muggle was giving her freedom of choice even while playing her into his hands…

Lucius could almost admire it…

Almost.

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"Three hundred and eighteen."

Hermione looked at Michael curiously, and he nodded. "Three hundred and eighteen curves in eleven miles."

Smiling, she bit her lip, her anticipation keen.

Just then, a man on a motorcycle roared past them startling her, and the Michael nodded to him. "This is one of the world's foremost motorcycle and sportscar roads, and as such, it is very unique. There are no roads that intersect, no houses with driveways and no businesses. You know what that means?"

Hermione answered readily, "It's a crooked, straight-shot."

"Well-put!" Michael nodded, and using his hands to illustrate, he continued, "Each and every curve is different, and there is very little elevation change which makes for a smooth ride. Now, many of the curves are banked like a race track, and with that said, this is not a road to sightsee." Michael studied her seriously. "The attraction is the road itself, not the scenery, so there's no need to look at the wooded roadside when the curves are coming at you rapid fire. And the curves are what you should be concerned with. Got it, Granger?"

Smiling, she nodded. "Got it."

Michael nodded. "Now's let's talk statistics. In 1992, the speed limit was fifty miles per hour. That since has been lowered to thirty. The road is a two-lane highway. You have on-coming traffic to contend with, locals that go exactly thirty miles an hour just to fuck with joyriders, not to mention, the Dragon is becoming very popular for driving enthusiasts and pleasure-cruisers alike. In short, to sum up, you've got a recipe for disaster."

Hermione nodded solemnly.

Michael continued, "There are at least three or more fatalities on this road a year, and the number is climbing due to its popularity. Most of them are bikers, a few compact cars," he shrugged. "The point is, what you are about to do is very serious" he gave her a level look, "and dangerous. Now, are you ready for your next challenge?"

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Severus could see the conflicting emotions registering on her face: the predominant being curiosity. Damn her curiosity!

She cleared her throat, and responded uncertainly, "What is it?"

The muggle interloper smiled. "It's not too late to back out, Granger. Once I tell you, you're locked in. I can switch to the driver's side and we'll have us a nice, pleasant cruise through these three hundred and eighteen curves…" the Mic trailed off.

Severus's impetuous Gryffindor snorted, and shook her head. "Not a chance. I want to know. What is it?"

The muggle bastard gave her a very malevolent grin as he stated off-hand, "The record for an amateur driver running one way on the Dragon is nine minutes. Now, this record was established in 1992 when the speed laws were still above 50 miles per hour or 90 kilometers per hour if we use the Metric system. We are, however, in America driving an American-made car, and so we shall use miles…so that equates roughly to the driver going sixty-two miles per hour in order to finish in nine minutes flat."

Severus knew exactly where the bastard was going with this.

"Sixty-two miles per hour is extremely illegal in this day and age, so let's say this: if you can make it through the Dragon in fifteen minutes or less, Granger, then you will get to drive this beauty for the entire week that we are on vacation." The Mic again smiled malevolently. "But if you don't…" He left the rest unsaid.

Severus watched as Hermione closed her eyes, pursing her lips together, she drew a deep breath.

After a moment, her eyes opened, and Severus could sense a question was coming. "What if I run into…errm, _encounter_ any other vehicles on the road?"

"Ah, I'm very glad you asked that question, Sweets, for your answer is three," the Mic responded smugly.

"Three?" She looked puzzled.

"Three. If you encounter three or more vehicles—including motorbikes— on the road, then the run is a wash, and we try again another time. However, if you run into two or less," Severus watched as the Mic began ticking points off his fingers, "you have to: a.) suffer in silence and pray they pull off, b.) try and intimidate the hell out of them by flashing your lights and being a general nuisance to get them to pull off, or c.) take our lives into your hands and attempt to pass them." The bastard shrugged. "You're call, ace."The bastard sat back in the passenger seat, and crossing his arms to his chest, looked calmly unconcerned with her decision.

Meanwhile, Hermione was so keyed up, Severus could see her hands were shaking.

She took several deep breaths to collect herself, and Severus made a concerted effort to reign in his own emotions—particularly the murderous thoughts that were swimming in his head pertaining to a certain smug muggle bastard.

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Lucius looked over at Severus to find him gritting his teeth and staring stoically at the back of the muggle's head. He didn't need legilimency to know that Severus was planning the muggle's demise…but slowly.

The engine revved again, and Lucius saw the Mic pull out a plastic timer from his pocket and hold it out in front of him.

"On your mark…" Hermione pulled them out until the muggle carriage was on the road.

"Get set… …" She revved the motorized engine, shifting it into gear.

"Go!"

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_**A/N:**_ There...a nice, long chappie for my readers. ;D Would love to hear from ya'll, so drop me a line if you get the chance?

**xxkattiaxx**


	9. Waltzing Matilda: Night Two, part I

Ch. 9— Waltzing Matilda: Night Two, part I

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"Would you mind, Severus, if I entered Ms. Granger's dreams for a bit of time alone with her?"

The day had been one of utter frustration for both Severus and Lucius, and Lucius could tell that Severus was still keyed up and spoiling for an argument. Lucius needed him calm, he needed him in control. He needed him to stop blaming Hermione for dating the muggle Mic.

After all, even Lucius could see the appeal the muggle man offered her; he was charming, handsome, a prince among his own kind, and he was very suave in his manipulation.

Hermione had won the challenge the muggle had set by fourteen seconds, and she had celebrated by pulling over onto the side of the road, jumping out of the motor car, and into the waiting arms of the muggle Mic.

She had kissed him soundly and thanked him repeatedly, telling him how thoughtful he was, how inventive…how very thrice-damned clever he was to have remembered an off-hand comment from a conversation they'd had ages ago and act accordingly.

In point of fact, the flush of triumph still hadn't dimmed from her eyes even as they returned to the hotel, and she had kissed him again—lingeringly. And there was absolutely nothing—not a damned thing—Lucius or Severus could do to stop it.

And so, as they waited for Hermione to finish her evening ablutions and ready herself for bed, Lucius needed to give Severus time to calm down from the emotions of the day….

And it also just so happened that Lucius needed to find out how the gel felt about him.

"Well, are you alright with me going alone for the first dream sequence or not?" Lucius asked impatiently.

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Severus grit his jaw, and Lucius could see he was preparing to argue.

Lucius rolled his eyes. "It's been clear for years now how the two of you have felt about each other! I've nearly choked on the sexual tension roiling off you two—especially when you argue." Lucius grit his jaw and straightened his cuff. "What's less clear is how the fair Ms. Granger feels about me."

Severus opened his mouth to comment but then closed it once more.

"Now, if you don't mind?" Lucius asked archly.

His eyebrows raised, Severus said, "By all means," and seating himself in the wingback chair to wait, he gestured to the bedroom door as if to say: _be my guest_.

Drawing a deep breath to steady himself, Lucius turned his back on his brother and walked through the closed door of Hermione's bedroom to stand beside her bed.

A t-shirt. A simple, plain, gray t-shirt was what the gel wore abed. It was obviously well-worn, and he knew damn well that she could afford better. He bent close to her and whispered softly, "Dare I attempt to kiss you, my dear? Would you let me in?"

Lucius was tempted, so very tempted. Her plump bottom lip, the one she worried and chewed on so feverishly throughout the day—how many times had he just wanted to lick and caress that tortured flesh!

"No, I think not," he decided. "At least, not yet."

Drawing a deep breath, Lucius reached for one of the curls at her nape and was transported into her dreams.

Colors and light intensified for him as images raced by his mind's eye. Her dreamscape was incoherent; there was no sense, no purpose. And so Lucius thought about how he wanted her dream to be… where he wanted them to go, and slowly, the images clarified until she was picturing the gardens at Malfoy Manor.

With a thought, he transformed his clothes until he wore formal wizard's robes, his hair tied back in a queue by a leather thong. Too nervous to sit, he settled for examining the trellis of white Jacobite roses as he waited for her to arrive.

"Lucius?"

He turned, and Hermione smiled, walking towards him; her hair its usual unkempt riot of curls, dressed in her usual weekend outfit of muggle jeans, t-shirt, and something she called 'doc martens' for boots.

"Why am I here?" Glancing around, she looked back at him puzzled.

In answer, Lucius stepped closer to her, and said conspiratorially, "What would you do if I said I would like to take you dancing?"

She gestured to her muggle clothes and laughed. "I'd say I'm hardly dressed for it."

He smiled. "Ah, but my dear, that can be easily remedied." With a thought, Lucius transformed her drab outfit into that fit for a queen: apricot yellow to bring out the rose-bloom of her cheeks, crystal quartz adorning her neck and ears. Suddenly, she was almost his height due to the heels he added. He did, however, leave her curls exactly the way they were, only pausing to snip one of the Jacobite roses and fasten it behind her ear.

"Shall I show you what you look like?" Not waiting for an answer, Lucius gave a thought and a full length mirror appeared before her. He moved to stand behind her and rested his bare hands on her bared shoulders.

Biting her lip, Hermione blushed beautifully, all the way down to the exposed neckline of her dress, as she studied herself in the glass.

Lucius met her eyes in the mirror entreating her to believe. "Hermione, you are beautiful, witch."

She shook her head, dimpling at him. "And you're a charmer, Lucius."

He heaved a silent sigh and squeezed her shoulders. "Do you not believe your own eyes?"

She examined herself carefully, critically in the mirror and then again shook her head. "This is illusion. It's not reality."

Meeting her eyes once more in the mirror, he brushed the heavy fall of her hair to the side, exposing her ear, and slowly ran his hand up to gently cup her neck. Maintaining eye contact in the mirror, he leaned in close to whisper in her exposed ear. "It could be."

She shivered, her flesh prickling under his hand, and turning her head, she met his gaze full-on, their lips a hairsbreadth away from touching. She said definitively, "It would be incredibly foolish of me to believe anything you say at face value, consummate Slytherin that you are; besides, I like myself as I am."

"And I am not trying to change you," he stated truthfully.

In answer, she raised an eyebrow and looked down at the dress and heels she wore and then back up to him.

"You are still _you_, Hermione. But this is a facet of yourself you have yet to truly explore—" he turned her until she was in his arms facing him, and his silver eyes met her honey-brown ones as he implored, "—have courage Gryffindor."

She bit her lip.

Lifting his hand, Lucius rubbed his thumb gently over the abused flesh, releasing it from the prison of her teeth. She then licked where he had pressed, her expression wide-eyed and uncertain.

She couldn't trust him. That's what it ultimately came down to. She didn't trust him to treat her as a witch should be treated.

Lucius gave her a sad smile. "At least allow me to dance with you, Hermione. After all, it would be a shame to waste the dress."

In answer, she closed her eyes and pursing her lips, she nodded in acquiescence.

Music began as the scene of the dream shifted, and then they were in the ballroom of Malfoy Manor. The sconces were lit, the mirrors reflecting Hermione's beauty to infinity. And a song he had never heard before began to play around them.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Lucius led her to floor center. And gently drawing her into his arms, he began to slowly waltz them around the room as an amber-whiskey voice began to sing:

_Wasted and wounded, and it ain't what the moon did._

_I got what I paid for now…_

He closed his eyes as the lyrics of the song pierced him, but that only made them more apparent, and Lucius's throat worked as he listened.

Oh, how she did know him—his fierce lady—how she knew him well.

Opening his eyes and staring into hers, his thoughts went back to the days before; the days before Hermione had barreled into his life with a half-cocked plan to change the wizarding world.

Half-starved, unkempt, and wasting away on cheap whiskey and whatever else he could find to pour down his gullet; Lucius had treated her with such disdain, such hatred. Calling her 'mudblood bitch', and that was the kindest of his epithets toward her in those days.

The Dark Lord and his followers had lost the war.

He had lost his social and political standing.

He had lost his fortune, his family, his life's purpose …his sanity.

And Hermione and Severus had found him, had scooped him up. And she had bullied, prodded, berated, criticized, chastised, and yelled at him, had been there to help him when he decided to stop relying on drink, had given him back his honor, his dignity, and had given him a renewed sense of purpose through her dream of Lux Aeterna.

For all intents and purposes, the fall of the Dark Lord was a revolution. It got rid of the old oligarchy and made way for a new, and Lucius problem lie in the structure of the new wizarding world; he didn't understand it.

This was not something to which he had become accustomed, not as a Pureblooded wizard born to both power and privilege. And with both had come a certain ingrained system of beliefs. His father Abraxis would be spinning in his grave at what the wizarding world had become. And yet, Lucius found, after much time spent adjusting to it, the change quite agreed with him.

But this song—Hermione's song that she had chosen for him—held it all: the futility of his existence during the latter time of the Dark Lord and after his fall, the weariness of having survived the war at all, and even the romance of wanting to start over again. And as Lucius stared into her eyes, he found that Hermione was looking at him with frank and total honesty, searching for…something, something within him.

And her beautiful soul was likewise bared before him for him to seek that something out and to know.

Lucius's usual practiced calm—the distance he kept between himself and the rest of the world— deserted him as he held her in his arms, his heart held in her hands. For even though he was leading her in this dance, she was leading him somewhere infinitely more precious.

And as he looked into her eyes, he knew what he wanted more than anything else was to follow where she led.

The crux of the matter had come, and the time to lay his heart bared before her was now. He felt humbled, weak-kneed, and lighter than air as they waltzed, and he was left with perfect honestly between them. For he showed her his weariness: the fact that he was exhausted of games and pretense.

She was a good woman, and he wanted a good woman's love.

He wanted _her_ love.

"Lucius."

They stopped dancing.

He felt her hand on his heart, and gritting his jaw, he closed his eyes, unable to bear anymore.

She was trembling as he held her, and he drew her closer to him, only to realize he was trembling as well.

"Lucius." He heard her whisper before he felt her press a tentative kiss to his lips.

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_**A/N:**_ The song Hermione chooses for Lucius is _Tom Traubert's Blues_ (Waltzing Matilda), as performed by Rod Stewart.

Like it? Love it? Loathe it? Please leave a review in the kitty to show this authoress you care.

Thank you!

_**xxkattiaxx**_

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	10. Waltzing Matilda: Night Two, part II

Ch. 10— Waltzing Matilda: Night Two, part II

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Over the years, Severus Snape had acquired a great store of patience in dealing with both dunderheads and death eaters alike, and this had served him in good stead through both wizarding wars and teaching—gods help him!—teaching. However, his patience was sorely put to the test tonight as he waited for his brother-in-arms to bear his heart before the witch they both loved, attempting to see if she could feel the same.

Severus smirked to himself when he thought of Lucius's expression just before he went into Hermione's bedroom. It was rare to catch the blond wizard looking so vulnerable.

But he had been tonight.

And Severus understood his reasons for it. It was a long-shot for her to even care about one of them, let alone both. Previous triad experience aside, Hermione obviously didn't consider either of them to be available to her romantically—a situation he and Lucius would need to rectify at once.

As he waited, he planned where he would take them tonight. The muggle Mic obviously put a lot of forethought into where he took her, and just thinking about the muggle brought a host of emotions to the fore of Severus's thoughts; the most prominent being fury.

Quickly, he sorted through them, cataloguing them, choosing instead to focus on Hermione and her triumph on the road.

But Merlin, while driving, she had been magnificent. Magnificent _and_ reckless.

They had driven that damned road in fourteen minutes and forty-six seconds while only encountering one other vehicle, which after much honking of the horn, swearing, and flashing of her high beams, she had intimidated the slower car to 'pull off' so she could pass.

Reckless.

Lucius had even laughed at her antics, but Severus could only scowl. She was scared of flying, but drove like a demon fleeing the depths of hell in a muggle car. The logic escaped him.

Flying was a much more elegant, efficient, _and safer_ form of travel. Severus narrowed his eyes as a thought occurred to him, and he smirked.

Lucius had time enough alone with her; it was time for him to share.

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Within the dream, Hermione felt her pulse quicken. Lucius's eyes were clear, and so transparent, she could see it all: the loneliness, the longing, the fact that he cared deeply for her.

She had always thought him out of her league, for the likes of Narcissa Malfoy certainly, but never even thought of for her. She had placed him firmly in the category of 'friend', and never had she considered him any other way.

She never even would have known that Lucius felt this way about her because, until this moment, he had kept it so well hidden behind his teasing wit and nonchalant banter. In fact, she rarely knew what either Lucius or Severus were thinking as they both could be implacable as granite at times and just as hard to read.

But he was transparent as glass right now, and her world tilted a little on its axis with that look of his. It made her yearn and want, and ask to be held and caressed… and—Sweet Merlin— she was kissing him, and it felt so right with him holding her to him, the both of them quaking at this new-found knowledge between them.

Another song began to play— a wizard's waltz— and Hermione had just enough presence of mind to register that this wasn't one she recognized when a deep, alluring voice spoke from behind her, "May we have this dance, Ms. Granger?"

Her eyes grew wide, and Hermione felt a blush suffuse from her cheeks to her neckline when she turned and found Severus bowing to the waist before her in his own dress robes. He gave her an ironic twist of his lips, and straightening, cocked a solitary eyebrow.

She looked behind her at Lucius.

"Well, Hermione?" Lucius stood with his arms at the ready for her to step into, a tender smile on his face. She turned back to see that Severus still had his eyebrow raised in inquiry.

_Did they mean the both of them at….? _

"It is only just a dance, Ms. Granger… Hermione." Severus said.

She moistened her lips and meeting his gaze, answered tremulously, "Al-alright."

A flash of desire flared in his eyes, and she felt Lucius's hand at her waist, urging her to turn around to face him. Feeling breathless, Hermione did so as Lucius drew her until her chin was up, and she was staring into his silver eyes. And she gulped as she recognized the slow-kindled passion she saw in them. He took her hand and drawing it to his lips, kissed her palm and then rested it in the palm of his own.

She gasped as she felt Severus step behind her and position his hand on her waist, placing his other hand on top of the one that Lucius held so that her hand was clasped between the two.

Definitely feeling uncertain and infinitely out of her depth, Hermione glanced up to see Lucius nod over her head, and then they were waltzing: the three of them moving in time to music she had never heard before.

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Severus felt Hermione trembling like a leaf between them, and he sincerely hoped it was more in tension and anticipation than in fear. His thumb began rubbing soothing circles at her waist where he held her, Lucius holding her by her upper waist, and she willingly followed between them, going where they led.

It was strange how well they danced together. Perhaps it was because Lucius and he were long-time friends, perhaps it was because this was a dream? But the night had definitely taken on a dream-like quality for him: her waist beneath his hand, the material of her dress shushing against his pants leg as they moved back and forth in time to the music.

Lucius was looking down on her with a softer look than Severus had ever seen the man give. He felt her hand squeeze Lucius's, and in turn, Severus pressed the back of hers.

The song ended and both Severus and Lucius released her, bowing to the waist. Looking behind her, she gave him a tentative smile as another song began to play, this time, one of Lucius's choosing. "Shall we have another, my dear?" Lucius asked.

Severus saw Hermione readily nod, and effortlessly, Lucius spun her until she was facing Severus with her back to the blond wizard. Severus looked down to see her looking up at him with wide, honey-eyed innocence, and he felt himself smile at the little witch.

That must have been enough for her, for she drew closer to him, and rested her head on his chest, hugging to him.

Lucius drew closer to them both, and wrapping one arm around her waist and placing his other arm on Severus's bicep, he began dancing to a slower, more sensuous rhythm, compelling the two of them to do so as well.

This was a dance Severus had never done before, but instead of trying to perfect the rhythm, he let Lucius lead the three of them and focused instead on the dear mop of curls that was currently nestled next to his heart. Her arms were wound around him, and he could feel her warm breath puffing against the silk of his vest. Her hands were rubbing up and down his back, repeating the soothing rhythm he had given to her waist a moment before.

Severus's hands were not idle during this exchange, for as he held her, he moved them so that his fingers could play with the back of her dress where it met bare flesh, ghosting across with little, phantom-like caresses that set her skin to prickling gooseflesh.

Lucius, too, had moved his hand; his arm—the one not clutching Severus's bicep— was cradling her lower belly, holding her securely in front of him as he rocked the three of them back and forth in time to the rhythm of the slow, sultry song.

He watched as Hermione's head fell back against Lucius's chest, her eyes bright with desire as she gazed up at him—at Severus.

Lucius took advantage of her proximity and bent to place a lingering, nibbling kiss at her nape. She gasped, her eyes dilating, and her color deepening as she submitted to Lucius's attentions all the while gazing into Severus's eyes. _Exquisite. _Severus thought._ She was simply exquisite._

Severus leaned down close and whispered in her other ear, "Close your eyes."

She did as bid, readily trusting him, and Severus thought of where he wanted the dream next to go as all around them, the dreamscape changed.

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_Was it possible to die of anticipation? Ah, gods! How about pleasure?_ Hermione wondered as Lucius continued to nibble on her neck, and she groaned, pushing herself back against him, all while Severus was holding her in his arms.

Feeling a cool breeze upon her cheek, she opened her eyes and gasped in dismay, climbing Severus like a tree until she was fully in his arms.

She shut her eyes tight and shook in fear.

"Hermione, you are safe. Open your eyes," Severus entreated.

In answer, she shook her head and buried deeper into the folds of the dark wizard's robes.

She felt Lucius draw closer to them and sandwich her in with his arms. Far from feeling protected, Hermione felt closed in and on the verge of a panic attack. She began breathing short, little sips of air that were doing much more harm than good and making her feel light-headed.

"You have a perverse romantic streak about you, Severus, if this is how you think wooing a witch should be done." She heard Lucius say."The gel is obviously terrified of heights."

"Hmm, yes. That she is." Severus's tone voiced his disapproval. "Perhaps we should take it slower..."

"Perhaps we shouldn't do it at all." Hermione spoke weakly from the folds of his robes. "Gods, put me down on the ground, NOW!" She felt sick. Nauseous and sick.

"Severus, put the girl down! Gods, man. She'll wake up, and then where will we be?"

"Open your eyes, Ms. Granger." Severus stated calmly.

Peeking out from the folds of his robes, she did so; relieved to see they were on terra firma once more. Quickly vault-stumbling from his arms, she made to distance herself from him—them, turning her back on both of them.

"Hermione?" Lucius asked carefully, evenly.

She took deep, calming breaths, trying to bring her emotions back into control. Gods! She hadn't been flying that high since the war, and it brought back a host of feelings and emotions she would much rather forget.

"Ms. Granger?" She heard Severus ask, his voice sounded hesitant, uncertain.

It was his tone that broke through the powerlessness she felt, and she responded with anger. "How dare you?" she turned around and lashed out at the both of them. "I don't know what you two are playing at, but I am not amused."

Severus, always quick to respond in anger, lashed out at her, his tone dripping in ironic condescension, "Believe me when I say, Ms. Granger, that you were in no danger whatsoever." His eyes held knowledge that she knew not, and it only served to feed her fury, her eyes flashing with it. _How many times had she been subjected to that look over the years? How many?!_

Upon seeing this, Severus's temper ratcheted up a notch further, and he continued, his tone even more patronizing, "Besides, you seemed to like it well enough this afternoon, taking your life well and truly into your hands in that damned automobile. You must tell me, Ms. Granger, how that is any different to this." He gestured to the sky. "I can tell you, flying with me is a hell of a lot safer than driving with that bastard Mic."

"…Mic? …Michael? How do you know I'm with Michael?! I was so very careful to keep my plans secret from you two." Her eyes widened, "You've been spying on me?"

Severus nodded, unabashed. "Yes, and a real catch you've got there too, little girl. He's lying to you at every turn, leading you towards certain disaster, manipulating you by that damned Gryffindor pride you have, and you're oblivious to it all—"

"—Severus..." Lucius broke in.

"That's it! I've had it." Hermione threw up her hands. "Every single goddamned time I begin to show interest in someone, Severus Snape, you find a way to get rid of him." She began ticking points off her fingers: "Hmm, let's see, there was Jim in accounts receivable: let go because you said he was out of dresscode, but really, you and I both know it was because the man smiled at me."

"He was wearing a t-shirt!"

"It was casual Friday! Then there was Ted, David, William, the _other_ David. I've practically developed a reputation around the office for making gentleman redundant. 'Don't glance twice at Granger or you'll find yourself on the dole, har, har , har.' Don't think I haven't heard it."

"—Severus, Hermione…" Lucius again tried to interject.

"STAY OUT OF IT!" They both roared.

Hermione put her hands on her hips, "And not to mention the men that I've had meet me at the office from time to time. I leave them alone for five minutes—FIVE MINUTES, mind you, and they're gone…with no explanation! And I never hear from them again."

Severus smirked. "Perhaps, Ms. Granger, it's a question of quantity versus quality?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, her tone lethal. "Are you implying what I think you're implying, Severus Snape?"

"Well, if the wizard's wand fits…"

She drew a scandalized breath, and turned away from him, her face afire.

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Lucius closed his eyes and grit his jaw. _Always. Always, Severus. Will you never learn?! _Embarrassment leads to anger and anger leads to saying something irretrievable.

Watching as the young witch's shoulders shook, Lucius glanced over to Severus to find him with a devastated look on his face. Lucius didn't need legilimency to know what his friend was thinking…

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_Again! Dear Merlin, I did it again! _The thought kept circling around and around in Severus's head. It would not be assuaged. He had made her cry. He had said an unspeakable thing to her and made her cry.

Beside him, Lucius spoke lowly for his ears alone, "You better pray to whatever gods you believe in, Severus, that she doesn't remember you said that." And Severus watched as with a thought, Lucius dismissed himself from her dreams.

Hermione turned back to face him, scorn in her tear-rimmed eyes and fire in her heart, and Severus knew that what she said next was calculated to lay him low.

"Do you know what your problem is, Severus?" The smile she bestowed upon him was arctic. "You're jealous. Oh, yes! So very eat up with jealousy that you can't stand it, virgin that you are. Just because you don't have the bollocks to ask me out on a proper date, like any other ordinary wizard, doesn't give you the right to dictate who I see… _or_ _how many!_" She laughed, the sound falling harsh on his ears. "And I've got news for you, Severus. It's _never_ going to happen. Not in this lifetime or the next. I'll only be _yours_ in your dreams."

Severus closed his eyes as he dismissed himself from her dreams and came back to the darkened bedroom once more. She was restless now, tossing this way and that to try and get comfortable, and his throat worked with the lump of sorrow that he felt welling up inside him. He looked at her sadly and nodded his head. "Yes, Ms. Granger, only in my dreams, for I have failed in yours."

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_**A/N:**_ Och! But will Severus never learn?! Stay tuned to find out, dear readers!

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	11. Wrong Side of the Bed

Ch. 11— Wrong Side of the Bed

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Hermione awoke exhausted, feeling strung out and inexplicably angry. In fact, she couldn't ascribe to it a reason or a person, really…. only that she felt very…out of sorts.

Groaning, she stiffly made her way from the bedroom to the bathroom, and then from the bathroom to don her workout clothes. Gods! If she ever needed to work out some frustration in the gym, it was today.

Michael was already there when she joined him. Only pausing to give him the briefest of smiles, she climbed the treadmill and began to run—head on, running for all she was worth. After a few minutes, she began breathing hard, panting. Her cheeks red with exertion and sweat began pouring from her brow.

"Whoa. Easy, there, tiger." A hand reached over and adjusted her settings so that she was running at a slower tempo. Hermione didn't pause to think, just adjusted them back to where they'd been and kept on, pushing her body to extremes.

"Hermione?" Michael questioned.

She didn't answer, just kept running full-tilt.

"Granger, you're going to do yourself injury if you keep pushing yourself like that."

In answer, Hermione increased the speed of the treadmill and ran faster. From the mirror's reflection, she saw him throw up his hands and dismount the machine beside her.

She ran on.

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_Merlin!_ Lucius thought as he watched Hermione torture herself on the muggle device. He had no doubt that this was in response to the dreams. She looked exhausted, bleary-eyed, as if she'd really spent a night crying her heart out instead of the restless night's sleep she'd had.

His heart ached, for it was obvious she was in pain.

He looked over at Severus to see him looking at the girl with such a look of misery on his face, it was more than apparent he was distressed as well.

The gel continued to torture herself as they all looked on, and in impotent frustration, Lucius went over to her and laid a soothing hand on her shoulder. It went right through her, of course; he couldn't touch her. But what happened next was a curious thing for she looked up, and he saw her face clear of some of the nameless emotion that was crowding it. And then she was slowing down to a jog and then to a stop, panting heavily.

Lucius kept his hand hovering near her shoulder, his other near her waist in a pantomime of an embrace, and for just for a moment, she leaned back into his non-existent arms, and then almost collapsed for there was no one there to catch her.

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Severus watched as Lucius's eyes widened when Hermione almost toppled over into him.

"Jesus, Hermione! Get your arse over here now before you fall down!" The muggle bastard ordered of her. Severus watched as the Mic gestured to one of the plastic mats on the floor, and shakily, she all but limped over and dropped heavily to a seated position on the mat. Severus moved closer to her, and squatted down on one side of her with Lucius on the other.

"Come here." The muggle tsk'd, and taking one of her calves into his hands began to work on the tight muscle groupings there. She winced.

"Well, it's what you get," the bastard said to her as he continued to roughly massage. "You should know better!"

She closed her eyes, gritting her teeth. "Oww, I do, Oh! I really do."

"Then what the hell?!" The muggle bastard gave a vicious pull of her leg that sent her toppling onto her back with him leaning over her, her leg fully extended upon his shoulder as he stretched it taut.

She panted, her cheeks red, "I was… I guess… I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," she groaned as the muggle moved up to her thighs, all but pounding the muscles there, and then treating the other leg to the same harsh treatment. He slowed and cupping her thigh in his hands, beginning to rub it down more gently.

The interloping Mic's eyes gleamed with mischief. "Well, that's some excuse for abusing yourself, lady, but I'm here to tell ya, Sweets, there are other ways to vent your frustrations."

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Lucius watched as Severus drew closer to Hermione, his body now hovering over hers proprietarily, and he saw in dawning realization as Hermione physically shifted away from him and toward himself and the muggle, her eyes alit with playful mischief as she bantered back with the boy. "Such as…?"

The muggle looked distracted. "Such as what, Sweets?" He was now doing a very _thorough_ job of massaging her thighs and calves, and Lucius could see the beginnings of arousal set in Hermione's eyes.

Severus only hovered closer to the pair, scowling at the both of them.

"The other ways to vent my frustrations…?" wide-eyed, she led him, inching still closer to Lucius and further into the muggle's massaging hands… and away from Severus.

"Ah," The muggle smirked, "Well I can at least think of one…."

She wrinkled her nose. "Only one?"

He bent over her and whispered, "One's all I need darlin'."

They all watched as Hermione lunged forward and kissed the muggle passionately. Severus, clearly beside himself, made a dive to stop her, grasping at only air, and only causing her to act more aggressively, more wantonly with the muggle.

Severus began shouting and cursing the both of them.

The muggle broke the kiss, breathing heavily and looking down at her. "Your room, my room—hell, the bathroom! We just need to get off the goddamned floor and away from prying eyes."

She nodded and found his mouth once more, kissing him ferociously as the muggle straddled her fully.

"Severus!" Lucius shouted over his vehement cursing. "FOR MERLIN'S SAKE! MOVE TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROOM; YOU'RE MAKING HER ACT THIS WAY!"

Gods! They were going to do it! If Severus didn't stop inciting Hermione's behavior, the muggle and she were going to have sex right there on the floor! They already were pantomiming the act: their bodies gliding sinuously across each other's clothed forms, hands traveling everywhere, mouths feasting on one another.

In desperation, Lucius made a mad grab for Severus's collar, and catching hold, pulled until he had lifted him up and away from the pair, and viciously shoved him away. Breathing heavily, Lucius pointed to the corner of the room, brooking no refusal from Severus, while the pair of would-be lovers continued in their horizontal dance upon the floor.

Reluctantly, Severus moved across the room, panting heavily, and rubbing the back of his neck, watching in anguish as the two continued in their foreplay.

His emotions churning, Lucius knelt by Hermione's head and touched a curl at her nape, ghosting his fingers across the dewy skin of her collar bone. She immediately pulled back from the muggle's kiss and looked up at the man, blinking confusedly. Lucius increased the contact, putting both hands near her shoulders and resting his bowed head above hers.

He whispered urgently, "Hermione, please, my girl, don't do this; you don't have to do this." And he prayed she would listen, prayed she could feel him urging her to back away.

He saw her visibly tense, and then pale as she looked at the muggle above her, still grinding his clothed hips into her own. "m-Michael. Michael?"

The muggle stopped moving and looked down at her expectantly.

She blushed the color of shame. "I—I don't know what came over me. I—I'm so sorry. I—"

The muggle blinked and turned his face away from her. Lucius and Severus could both see from their respective positions the look of abject hatred and disgust he had on his face—the look of wanting to conquer, to weaken, to claim. It appeared and was gone in an instant, but both of them had seen it.

And Hermione had not.

The muggle turned back to her and smiled understandingly—disarmingly. "That's alright, love. Here, let me help you up." And when he did so, Hermione quickly moved away from him and towards where Lucius stood.

For his part, Lucius stood as close to her as he could, literally cocooning her in his non-corporeal form, and he saw her draw a shaky breath and relax slightly.

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"Time to hit the showers?" Michael said jovially, almost jokingly, as he grabbed a towel and threw it to her.

Hermione's cheeks flamed as she heard his off-hand comment and the double-meaning behind it, and she buried her face in the towel, feeling the need to apologize again. _My gods! A cock-tease! She had just been a cock-tease!_ She had thrown herself at him, and then refused to follow through!

She had just ruined their friendship, and she didn't even know _WHY_ she had done it! Why she had thrown herself at him in such a way?

It was completely unlike her.

What was wrong with her?!

"Hermione… Earth to Hermione, come in Hermione."

She looked up to find Michael standing before her, his usual, jovial grin in place as he looked down on her. She lowered her chin, suddenly feeling the urge to cry. His arms circled around her, and she stiffened. Gods! She didn't want to be held—not by him. She had to physically stop herself from pulling away.

"It's alright, love. We'll get there in time, and I'm a very patient man."

At his words, she shuddered and stepped back from him towards the door. "S-sorry, just cold all of a sudden," she explained as she turned her back on him, and opened the door. She didn't turn back to face him, only standing by the doorframe when she said, "Breakfast in the lounge after we clean up a bit?"

She heard him respond, "I'll meet you there." Giving a curt nod, Hermione left and fled, taking the stairs two at a time to her room.

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Lucius followed her, Severus trailing close behind them. He did not like the look upon her face, and her hands were shaking so much it took three tries and a round of cursing before she was able to get the door to her room to open.

She closed it with a slam and immediately began taking off her sweat-sodden clothes.

Concerned, Lucius followed her into the bathroom as she twisted the tap to its hottest, most punishing setting, and climbed in, sinking down to the floor.

And then, she began to cry.

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Severus watched helplessly as she sank to the floor of the shower, tears mingling with water that was brutal in its heat on her already pinkened flesh.

Gods, but she was punishing herself! She drew her knees up to her chest and balled into her clenched fists. He bent to get closer to her, feeling so gods-damned helpless and guilty for how she felt, and she drew back, screaming and clutching at her head.

"SEVERUS! GET BACK!" Lucius roared at him, and wide-eyed, Severus did so, going into the other room, Hell! The other side of the damned hotel, the other side of the planet if he needed to. _He had done this to her. Gods! He had done this to her. It was his fault._

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_**A/N:**_ For all those readers that do choose to leave a review, please note that I look at and cherish each and every one, and time willing, reply accordingly. Thank you so much for your input and continued interest in my little tale! Your support means so much!

More soon.

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	12. 333 hz

Ch. 12— 33.3 hz

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His attention diverted, Lucius watched as Severus walked through the door and disappeared. "Sh-shh," he soothed, knowing Hermione couldn't hear him but wanting to comfort her anyway. He sat down on the shower floor beside her, feeling the brutally warm spray going through his non-body to land on her now red-tinged flesh. How he wished she would stop torturing herself! Lucius reached out in a gesture of comfort, running his hands soothingly down her back, her shoulders, all the while talking quietly to her as he would a frightened mare: "You're alright. It's all okay. You're safe now. Hush, hush," he spoke the refrain again and again.

Her tears lessened and eventually ceased, her sobs quieted to hiccupping gasps, and the hot water—thank the gods!—eventually ran to soothingly cool.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she drew herself up and rose from the shower floor, turning her back to the cool spray. She put her hands on the opposite wall, and let the water run in rivulets down her back, all with Lucius crooning his approval of her behavior in her ear: "There's a good girl, let the cool water soothe you. You're fine, you're safe, and it's alright." He stood close to her in a pantomime of holding her to him and rubbed ghostly circles on her back. Turning her face to the spray, she washed and rinsed it free of tears, and Lucius ghosted his lips along her jaw approvingly.

She began to hum brokenly, and with a start, Lucius realized it was the song they had danced to last night_… ….something, something…Waltzing Matilda…would you go Waltzing Matilda with me?_

So she did know; some part of her knew he was there with her—some deep-buried part of her recognized his presence with her there as comforting her!

Lucius smiled in his triumph, looking back to tell Severus the good news when he remembered.

_Gods, Severus! _

As he watched Hermione hurriedly begin shampooing her hair, Lucius gave her a quick 'air' kiss on her lips and then walked through the shower wall to the sitting room and from the sitting room to the hallway.

He had to find Severus.

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_He needed a drink! _

It was so strange. Severus neither hungered nor thirsted while in this state, but he felt such a compulsion to be around Hermione, he couldn't stand it, and his hands shook for want of an ounce of liquid fortification. He had driven her to that state. He knew it with his every breath. He had done that to her.

He made his way to the hotel lounge and tortured himself a moment with the shelves of alcohol so temptingly out of reach. He could really damn Lucius for doing this to him, but he knew—as he'd always known—that the fault lay truly with him. He had been given this chance to show her how he felt, and he blew it, as he always did.

Gods! If Lucius hadn't been there…

And yet, he was there…_for her_.

It would be so much better if he just left them to it, if he just walked away. Lucius would have Hermione, and she—she would have Lucius.

And Severus would be alone—as he always had been—as he always should be.

He was at the front entrance of the hotel before he knew it, looking around, wishing like hell he could apparate away.

"Severus." He glanced behind him to see Lucius walking deliberately down the stairs. "Never have I been more grateful that we couldn't do magic than at this moment. The gel knows we're there."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Of course she does! I tortured her with my presence; nearly drove her to lunacy, or don't you remember?"

Lucius laid a hand on his forearm, and for once, Severus didn't shrug it away. "Listen to me, brother." Lucius looked at him intently. "She knows, somewhere buried deep within, she knows that we're there with her."

Severus scowled. "I have yet to see how this revelation changes anything."

"It doesn't. At least, not yet. But it could. It really could. Just…have faith, brother."

Closing his eyes, Severus bowed his head; he felt Lucius's arm fall comfortingly across his back, and he allowed it, drawing reassurance from it. Lucius urged him to walk back into the hotel. "Hermione was humming the song to which she and I danced last night. She was humming it _as I held her_, Severus. Is this not good news?"

Lucius led him to the dining room just in time to hear the bastard Mic tell her: "—and thus, this brings us to your next challenge."

There was no glimmer of playfulness about Hermione now. However, her complexion was flawless, her eyes were beautiful and un-swollen. Severus could tell she had used a glamour.

"I don't know if I'm up to accepting challenges at the moment," she stated truthfully, making a mush out of her oatmeal with the tines of her fork.

The bastard Mic took the hand that held her fork in his. "Now, now. It's alright, Sweets. Besides," a teasing grin entered into his eyes, "you know what happens if you don't accept a challenge..."

He let the threat hang in the air. Hermione broke her hand away from his, pushing away from the table. "I think I've just about had my fill of breakfast _and_ of vacation." She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and made to rise.

As she did so, Severus saw the Mic's expression go from disbelief, to panic-stricken horror, to anger, and then he was blank-faced as she turned back to face him.

"Hermione, please." The bastard wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood, his eyes entreating her. "I don't know what I've done, but please, know I'm only teasing you. I would never make you do something you don't want to truly do. You know that don't you, Sweets?"

He followed her out into the hallway, his hand on her back, and Severus felt Lucius's restraining hand on his arm urging him to keep his distance. No, he couldn't go too near. Going too near would only serve to drive her closer to the bastard, and she was so close to leaving him!

"I don't know what I know anymore. I'm tired, I'm on edge," she rubbed at her face, "I'm acting erratically."

"And I completely understand." The Mic drew her over to a side alcove, putting his hands on her shoulders and rubbing them. Lucius took a few steps towards Hermione and stood a little to the side of the alcove. He reached out and gave her a ghost-caress on her hand. She moved towards him and out of the bastard's reach.

Lucius put his arms as close to around her as he could. She sighed and rubbed at her eyes tiredly. "I just—I don't think this going to wor—"

"Give me until Friday." The bastard Mic interrupted, his pond-scum eyes pleading with her. "At least allow me that. After all, this is as much your vacation as it is mine. We will go do whatever it is you want to do, and I will be as tractable and willing as your slave. You can even have me on my knees." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

She snorted and shook her head. "Slavishness and begging truly do not become you. Besides, up until the oddness of this morning, I was having a pretty good time going along with your plans."

The bastard grinned toothily, knowing an opportunity when he saw it. "And I still have them…lots more of them. And if you like, this morning never even happened. My god, fancy us running into one another over breakfast, hmm?"

She laughed, and Severus closed his eyes and grit his jaw. _Damn! Damn! DOUBLE-THRICED DAMN!_

"Alright, so disregarding the option of skydiving, what are our plans for today?"

"Hmmm, well…I can't tell you." The bastard bit his lip and smiled a ridiculously boyish smile down at her. He made to take her hand again, but she avoided it, moving closer to Lucius.

Severus nodded his approval.

The bastard looked at her askance. "Knowing what you know about me and my plans by now, Granger, do you think I've earned a little bit of …trust?"

"A wee." and she held up her fingers to perhaps a milimetre apart. "A wee bit."

"Fesch then, lass. A wee dram, I've earned." The bastard spoke in a Scottish brogue as thick as McGonagall's ever was. "Weel, will ye trust me then, lass, to do the right thing by ye newl?"

She nodded, and the two of them made their way to the damned muggle car. Severus, however, was pleased to see that she kept her distance from the muggle bastard and stayed approximate to Lucius the entire walk there. Lucius, for his part, was staying as close to her as he was able, feeding her need, her awareness of him.

And Severus kept his distance.

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"So what if I told you that I had grand aspirations of making you come to the sound of my voice?"

The bastard had been driving them for what seemed like hours, and Severus was thoroughly sick of car travel and conversation. He was _thoroughly_ sick of conversation. This was precisely why he avoided the pleasantries. And this was why he avoided people come to think on it. Ms. Granger and the Mic bastard had talked of everything and nothing—for over two hours!—and he had still yet to tell her what his plans were.

Severus's eyes were glazed over as he stared into back-country nothingness when he felt Lucius nudge him with the toe of his boot. He gathered his focus:

"Seriously, what if I said I could?" Severus mentally rewound the last few minutes of conversation, his face suffusing with color. _How dare the bastard, after what he did to her this morni—_

"I'd say that that's highly improbable to nigh impossible," she answered definitively.

"Do you doubt my prowess, madam?"

She laughed, blushing. "No. I just know for a fact that you don't have the voice. Sorry, Michael, but the attention-grabbing, molten sex-infused voice you do not have; that's just not a super-power in your arsenal." She smiled charmingly over at him gracing him with the dimples in her cheeks. _Lucky bastard._

_Did he appreciate it? Of course not! _For a moment, the bastard looked wounded, and then his eyes narrowed. "Wait a tic. You said 'for a fact'…and you'd know this _for a fact _how?"

If anything, Ms. Granger blushed a deeper shade of rose and bit her lip. "Because I've heard an attention-grabbing, molten sex-infused voice before…."

The Mic looked over at her calculatingly and then looked back at the road, drumming his thumb on the steering column. Meanwhile, Severus racked his brain trying to think of who it could be this time that had intrigued her.

And the Mic asked the question to which they were all dying to know the answer. "And this god of sex, this purely masculine Adonis of the Voice is…"

"…_was_ my Secondary school…errm… _Chemistry_ Professor actually."

Severus's jaw dropped open, and he sat there stunned staring into space until Lucius reached over and closed his mouth with an audible _clack_.

"Oh-ho! So you were one of _those_, hmm? Had a crush on your much older, much _wiser_ professor?" He waggled his eyebrows at her.

She shook her head. "NO! Well, alright…maybe for half a moment only….but he was horrible to me. Absolutely horrid!"

"Why would that be?" The muggle Mic looked genuinely puzzled. "From what you told me, you were aces in all your subjects."

She threw up her hands. "That's precisely the reason why he hated me. I was a 'know-it-all', as he less-than affectionately dubbed me. And I admit, he did have a point…to a certain extent...however, his sex-god voice did not make up for his absolutely gods-awful teaching style. Now, don't get me wrong, he is very passionate about his subject, but his teaching technique left something to be desired. Also, he had his favorites, and I was the complete antithesis of that."

She shrugged, "I was the best student he ever taught, and I can say that without conceit, but…" she trailed off looking very flustered and sitting back, crossed her arms. "Besides, the man was completely unaware of the effect he had; I swear on the days of practical demonstrations, all of us girls—and even some of the boys—found it hard to take notes. Hell, he could stand at lectern and read the phonebook, and we'd all of us be spellbound." She sighed. "So no, I do not think that you have it within your power to make me come to the sound of your voice. The bar's set too high there."

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"Well, put me in my place but prettily, why don't you, Sweets?" said the muggle.

Lucius couldn't believe his ears. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought… but then, of course, Severus had always been unaware of the magnetism he held.

"Alright, then perhaps not with my voice, but how about with thirty-three hertz?"

Lucius watched as Hermione looked at the muggle questioningly; their by-play coming rapid-fire.

The muggle nodded, "Do you remember that movie I made you watch: _Howard Stern's Private Parts_?"

"Uh-huh," she said, "I remember. That was actually one of the movies I stayed up to watch through to its entirety."

"Don't I know it? It was an inaugural event, Sweets; I had a banner made."

She rolled her eyes. "Har, har. So which scene… …" her eyes narrowed, and then she snapped her fingers, "Oh, I know! The scene with the speaker! And I exclaimed it 'bollocks'."

The muggle nodded. "In one. The scene with the speaker, and he makes her come with the sound of his voice."

She snorted and muttered, "Bollocks."

"Quiet you. For your information, a boffin-friend of mine is doing his dissertation on the effects of resonance upon the human body, and this certain friend has agreed to lend me the use of his lab for an evening's experimentation.

"WHAT?!"

The muggle nodded his head, "Uh-huh. Another challenge, Granger.

She grit her jaw. "Absolutely out of the question, Fortenbrass."

"Scared?"

"Hardly."

"Then it's time to pony up. Either you believe whole-heartedly in my friend's work and you admit as much, or we attempt to prove my friend's three-year researched dissertation is as you put it 'bollocks'. If we don't—and you don't admit whole-heartedly that you believe in my friend's work— I'm left with the knowledge that you absolutely refuse to see a hypothesis through to its requisite end." The muggle's tone grew reluctant. "And I thought _you_ were a scientist…"

Lucius watched as she crossed her arms in front of her. "Oh-ho, appeals to ethos and logos? What's next, Fortenbrass? Going to tell me I'll never truly feel like a woman until you attach me to the world's biggest—and probably most expensive—vibrator. No thank you."

He looked at her from the corner of his eye and held up his hand. "As a matter of fact…" The muggle sighed, exasperated. "Come on, Hermione. I promise you'll have fun. His lab truly is something to see…well, maybe not _see_, but definitely hear."

They pulled up in front of a stately-looking building in the middle of a muggle University campus.

Hermione bit her lip and narrowed her eyes, and Lucius could see the curiosity overcoming the objections she felt. She seemed to come to a decision. "Oh, alright! But seriously, no monkey business."

The muggle Mic looked at her with too-wide eyes, and said, "Granger, you have my word."

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She had seen a sound wave flow through water. Literally, she was able _see_ a sound wave produced with water when a hose was connected to a speaker. It was incredible, and very beautiful to watch. And now, Hermione stood there in the sound studio, and took off a pair of large headphones that were placed over her ears as she listened to Michael speak from within the sound booth opposite the glass.

"The resonance for most human organs is seven hertz. I won't play that one because it would make you sick, but trust me when I say that it is absolutely revolting to listen to."

"In fact, there's been research over the years to use it for sub-sonic weaponry: think… crowd control and rioting." She nodded as he continued, "In short bursts, seven hertz is non-lethal. Makes you feel like utter shite, but it's non-lethal. In a concentrated dosage, however…" he trailed off.

"So it's kind of the same effect as that bridge…you know, the one in Tacoma… 'Galloping Gurtie' wasn't it?" she asked.

He nodded. "It was a brand-new suspension bridge, and a gale-force wind blew through it, resonating _just right_ with the wire-taut cables, making them vibrate and sing. The bridge shook itself apart within minutes."

"And that's what seven hertz would do to the human body?"

"More akin to compression and liquification, but yes, more or less. Now enough pain, Sweets, let's talk _pleasure_."

Hermione groaned and hid her head in her hands. "You are not doing this to me."

"No, I'm not. You'd have to be in that studio there—" she looked to where he pointed at the little booth with the green and red lights currently turned off, "—for it to work properly. And since you refuse, on pain of abject humiliation, _hmmpf, some scientist you are!_ I am only going to play for you the binaural beats that can be akin to deep meditation. They are closely alternating tones of sound…only a difference of five hertz between them, but they send the human mind into a kind of trance that is soothing, and some might even say…addictive. Try not to get addicted, won't you? The equipment is expensive, and I don't think I can keep you in good enough supply…."

He trailed off as Hermione once more replaced the headphones over her ears and heard the syncopated rhythm start to play. At first, she could distinguish between the two notes, but they alternated so rapidly that she soon lost track, and it just sounded like one long, drawn-out soothing chord.

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Lucius felt Hermione's consciousness shift slightly.

He didn't know how he knew, but due to the dreamspell they were all of them under, he always knew when the gel was approaching a dreaming sleep. Listening to that damned tone the muggle played and that he couldn't hear, she was rapidly approaching the state of dreams, and Lucius hovered near her, his hand near her waist, his other placed near her shoulder as she sat on the stool.

He looked over to find Severus in the booth, observing the equipment there. Ever the researcher, he was keenly interested in where the muggle was going with this. The tone shifted just slightly— how he knew, he couldn't say— and her consciousness delved deeper away from him, shifting from dreams into a kind of dreamless deep meditation.

Her head nodded forward, and Lucius moved quickly to try and catch her in case she fell, which was ridiculous considering his non-corporeal state, but thankfully the muggle soon brought her out of the trance she was under.

She blinked, looking blearily up to the muggle-manufactured overhead lights, removing the device at her ears. "What was that?" she asked, her tone full of awe.

The muggle looked knowing. "That, Sweets, was three point four hertz. A wave to induce a deep, meditative trance."

She shook her head trying to clear it. "Geez, this is mental hijacking. Good grief!"

"Exactly!" He pointed to her. "And that's why we love it! Neural science: It's all in our heads. Now, let's talk _extreme_ pleasure."

"Oh, not this again. Gods, you're like a dog with a bone."

The muggle gave her a level look. "Hermione, love. Trust me. When have I ever steered you wrong?"

She bit her lip. "Well, never….but there's always a first time for everything."

"And that's a very pessimistic attitude for someone as young and buoyant as you to take. Now, get in that booth, and let me have my wicked way with you." The muggle smiled lecherously. "…and remember, this is for science!"

Rolling her eyes, she rose from the stool. "Oh, yes… for science."

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Severus watched from his position inside the sound booth as Hermione rose from the stool and proceeded to walk to the little antechamber to the side with the green and red light above it.

He could admit to having some curiosity over the muggle's experimentation. This was a rudimentary form of the imperious curse: the curse worked in just this fashion by keeping the mind distracted with a pleasant sensation while the body performed the requisite action the cursing wizard wanted completed. The muggles were still decades away, however, from harnessing the true potential of it—but they were getting closer.

And that was alarming.

In his experience, muggle scientists rarely looked beyond their own microscopes to the possibilities that lay beyond. Magic and muggle science did overlap and intersect in many ways as Hermione was fond of pointing out, but the fact that the muggles were getting closer to knowing and unlocking the human mind and body could only spell certain disaster for the magical world—especially if word of their existence ever got out.

The situation bore monitoring.

Severus knew Hermione could run circles around this lab and its rudimentary setup with her own research. And yet, there she stood in the smaller sound booth, enthralled by the muggle's neural parlor tricks.

He looked up and noticed her color heightening as he heard the muggle bastard say, "Alright, love. You're at thirty-three point one hertz. How are you faring?"

"Ahem. It's errm…interesting." She squirmed within the booth, and Severus saw Lucius raise a solitary eyebrow as he watched her.

The bastard smiled. "Let's go up to thirty-three point two."

Severus watched as he twisted the dial and a faint humming sound ratcheted slightly up within the booth. He looked up to find Hermione's color had deepened considerably, and she was now biting her lower lip.

"Doing anything for you, Sweets?"

Severus saw Lucius beside her, hovering near, looking just as intrigued with the experiment as he. She only pursed her lips and looked at the muggle bastard guiltily.

He laughed. "Alright. One more. Thirty-three point three hertz for the little lady to see if it—pardon the pun—rings her bell."

The low humming sound ratcheted up slightly further. Apparently, within the booth, it was much more intense as she flung her hand up to the pane of glass and bit back a moan. Good Gods! He was making her—

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"Come on, Sweets." The muggle encouraged her as Lucius stood beside her quivering form, watching as her jean-clad legs began to quake.

The muggle was actually leading her to orgasm, completely through the use of sound waves. _Merlin!_ Lucius stepped closer to her and put his hand near her lower stomach. She leaned slightly into his phantom's embrace, and with another few oscillations of the sound machine, she tucked her head to her shoulder near his chest and moaned her release.

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"And…?" Michael looked at her knowingly.

They were seated outside a Krispy Kreme Donut Shop with a sign that flashed 'hot & ready', and she was currently sitting on top of the picnic table, eating a gooey-fresh bit of glazed fried dough, and trying hard to get around telling Michael he was right.

Her legs scissored back and forth where they dangled off the edge. "You know, I don't think I've ever had a doughnut like this before…it's delicious." She licked some icing off her thumb and chugged some milk, stalling for time.

"C'mon, Granger. You know what I want to hear." She looked over to see him smiling enticingly at her. She wadded up her pastry napkin and threw it into the trash looking anywhere but at the man currently seated beside her.

Pursing her lips, she broke. "ALRIGHT!" She laughed and rolled her eyes. "You were right. You were right, and it was amazing. That was perhaps the most swotty, and cerebrally stimulating, experience of my life to date. It was a true pleasure. There. Are you happy?"

His eyes grew round as he nodded. "Oh, indubitably, Sweets."

Rising from the table, Michael walked until he stood between her parted legs. She stopped moving them, and leaning back on her hands, she looked up at him, smiling.

"I hope you realize what I'm trying to show you here in the course of this week, Granger." His tone was confiding.

She matched it, her eyes inquiring, "And what's that, Fortenbrass?"

He took a curl of her hair and ran it around his finger. "That it's the small things in life," he whispered as he leaned down close to kiss her.

For some reason, it felt wrong—horribly wrong— to be held like this with his fingers in her hair and his lips near hers; at the last moment, she moved her mouth away so that his lips connected with her cheek instead. "I—" she started, having absolutely no idea what she was going to say.

He stepped away from her and put his hands in his pockets, rocking backwards on his heels. "So no, huh?"

"I just—" she looked around, panicked, searching for something—anything—some reason to tell him that she couldn't… …well, that she just couldn't.

He stepped back up to her and brought a finger to her lips.

"Hush." He lowered his hand. "No explanation necessary, Sweets. We're friends, and we'll always be friends, right? No complications."

Nodding, she bit her lip as he moved back from her.

He sighed. "Well, that significantly changes things a bit in my plans—"

"Oh, Michael. I'm so sorry!"

"Don't apologize, Sweets." He grinned at her. "It doesn't suit. How about this, we make an early night of it, and you order room service. My treat. Rest and relax, and tomorrow, things will go as planned from there."

Closing her eyes, Hermione pressed her lips together and nodded. Merlin! She was making a hash of this.

"Now, c'mon. We've got miles to go before you sleep."

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_**A/N:**_ The science is pretty sound here, if you pardon the pun. ;D

Like what you've read? Please leave a review in the kitty on your way out the door.

More soon.

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	13. Room Service…with a Smile

Ch. 13—Room Service…with a Smile

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Lucius was thoroughly pleased with the day's events. The muggle blackguard was no longer pursuing Hermione romantically, and she was responding favorably to Lucius's presence beside her. He looked up from his position reclining on the bed to find Severus seated in the wingback chair in the sitting room, his hands steepled, and his occlumency shields full on as he stared into the nothingness in front of him.

It had been a hard day for them all, but especially so for Severus. He had kept his distance from her, and Lucius knew just how very difficult that was to do. Hell! He was almost in her lap as it was as she reclined on the bed, waiting for her meal to arrive. He couldn't get enough of her.

Her hair was wrapped turban-fashion in a towel, and she was dressed in black pajama bottoms and the ever-present gray t-shirt.

There was a knock on the door, and Hermione rose, returning with a covered tray that she sat on the bed. She took the glass of wine that had arrived with the tray and sipped, pulling the cover off the plate.

Lucius turned his nose up at the fare. "Grilled cheese and tomato consommé, Hermione, really? I could cook you a dish infinitely more complex and superior to that!" Lucius told her oblivious self as she sat next to him and began to eat. She picked up the little rectangular hand-held device, and began scrolling through stations, finally settling on a scene of moving pictures that she liked.

Moving to a more comfortable position on the bed, that just so happened to be nestled up against her, Lucius watched the muggle moving pictures as the story unfolded, and she ate. It was a take on the Brothers' Grimm Cinder story, putting the cinder-girl in the Renaissance during the age of Da Vinci.

And it was fascinating.

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Severus had intended to follow the bastard Mic once they returned back to the hotel, and Ms. Granger and Lucius had gone to the room above. Standing beside the Mic, Severus watched as he placed a phone call.

A few minutes later, a woman arrived that had more in common with blond, buxom 'Everyone calls me 'Sam' the flight attendant than with Ms. Granger. And Severus had watched as the bastard greeted the woman, and calling for the muggle car to pull around, the Mic proceeded to draw the tart into a secluded alcove and snog her senseless.

Having seen more than enough, Severus left them to it, knowing exactly how the muggle bastard's evening was going to be spent.

And now, from his position in the sitting room, Severus watched as Lucius became entranced with the muggle film. For Ms. Granger's part, this was a much-loved film, apparently, for she would occasionally quote bits of dialogue as it played upon the screen:

_If you suffer your people to be ill-educated, and their manners corrupted from infancy, and then punish them for those crimes to which their first education disposed them, what else is to be concluded, sire, but that you first make thieves and then punish them?_

Almost against his will, Severus rose from the wingback chair in the sitting room and made his way into the bedroom to sit in a chair furthest from the bed but still able to see the television. Ms. Granger curled more into Lucius's form as he did so, and the movie continued to play.

He was miserable. Miserable but elated as well. The muggle Mic was no longer a rival for her favor, but that still left the bastard's mysterious 'plans' for her: plans that were most certainly going to harm her unless Lucius found a way to tell her…_and_ _she believe_ that the Mic couldn't be trusted.

Severus couldn't say a thing against the muggle to her; he knew that now. If he did, she would only just rebel to spite him. No. It must be Lucius that told her.

Severus looked over at the two. Hermione had taken a pillow and propped it so that she was curled exactly as she would be if she was laying on her side with her head resting on Lucius's shoulder. For his part, Lucius had his arm around her upper back, ghosting a fingertip across the exposed portion of her clavicle as he watched the film, only occasionally offering commentary such as: _if this is supposed to happen in France, then why do the actors all have English accents? Leonardo Da Vinci—now there was a fine wizard. Born on the wrong side of the blanket, untrained, and muggleborn, my dear, but his powers still haven't diminished even after all these years. That's why muggles are so entranced with the Mona Lisa, after all. He constructed a way to splice muggle painting and magic for one instance of a frame of time. Genius._

The male lead of the film chased after the girl and stopped her in her tracks, and Severus observed Hermione sit up and take notice of this particular scene. He did so as well:

_You swim alone, climb rocks, rescue servants, is there anything you don't do?_

The female lead lifted up her arms to the heavens and smiled. _Fly!_

_Fly_, Hermione repeated sadly to herself, and gathering the remains of her meal, she rose and set the tray outside the door for collection.

Turning out the lights, and folding down the covers, she got into bed and continued to watch the movie play while Severus again made a study of both her and Lucius, marveling at how far Lucius had come from his disdain of all things muggle. Lucius's attention was rapt in the film, he was enthralled.

Ms. Granger was less so. Severus could read her facial expressions and see the thoughts churning inside her head and knew that tonight would be a rather restless one if he didn't find some way, somehow, to help her.

Severus's thoughts drifted back to the conversation that took place this afternoon when they had been driving in the car. She had complemented his voice…but more than that, she had said it was… _attention-grabbing, molten sex-infused, _and she had proceeded to verbally lambast him for his teaching technique towards her.

With infinitely more care, and infinitely more consideration than the night before, Severus Snape began to plan…

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_**A/N:**_ Alright, House Point Trivia Time for my readers! This one is infinitely easier to answer *wince*…I think.

Here we go: What movie were Lucius, Hermione, and Severus watching?

First person to buzz in with the answer gets the honor of having their name in my next chapter AND FIVE HOUSE POINTS awarded to the house of his/her choosing. Please remember to include that information with your answer.

GOOD LUCK! and more soon to follow…

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	14. Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This), Night 3

_**A/N:**_ House Points and mad props go out to _**Alesia G.**_ for being the first to answer my question correctly! The movie they were watching was _Ever After_ with Drew Barrymore. Points go default to Slytherin, however, because in this little tale of mine, our Slytherins need all the help they can get!

Now without much further ado…

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Ch. 14— Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This), Night Three

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Hermione looked around.

She was in a dark, dank room almost reminiscent of the Hogwarts Dungeons.

But wait…was it the Hogwarts Dungeons? The only source of light seemed to come from a place in the center of the chamber above the potion's bench that held a steaming cauldron.

Her curiosity piqued, she cautiously made her way over to it and peered down.

"Ms. Granger, tonight you'll be serving your detention with me."

Hermione jumped, and spun around.

_Professor Snape?_

But she could see nothing for the shadows were too complete, their surroundings too dark.

"Turn to page four hundred-twenty-three; you shall be making a healing and strengthening solution for Madam Pomfrey. Her stores are running quite low."

Was it her imagination or was his voice closer than it had been a moment ago? She shivered, and mentally blamed it on the dampness and acoustics of the dungeons.

Biting her lip, Hermione set to work, finding the requisite page and started the beginning stages of the brewing process on rote while her mind tried to think of why it was she would be in detention with Professor Snape of all people.

She looked down at herself.

Far from being in her Hogwart's school robes, she was in a white lab coat, loafers, a fitted button-down dress shirt and slacks. Reaching up, she felt her hair confined by a claw-toothed clip that gave her a headache every time she wore it.

It was strange—

"Is there a problem, Miss Granger?"

"N-no, sir. I just—why am I here exactly?" She bit her lip, bracing herself for the blistering sarcastic retort she knew would be coming.

"A remiss matter of some missing boomslang skin from my stores, or did you think I had forgotten?" he asked from seemingly over her shoulder_. _"Now, are you going to slice those asphodel stems or stare them to pieces, Miss Granger?"

This time… it _definitely_ wasn't her imagination.

He was right behind her, perhaps even less than a foot's distance separated them. Forcing her hands to stay steady, Hermione began to slice, her thoughts a jumbled mess.

It felt like he was stalking her…

He said, practically purring in her ear, "Although, I must applaud you for doing this the correct way as illustrated in the text, Miss Granger, might I suggest a different method?" She startled when she felt his hands gently cup hers; his own warm as they held hers. And she drew a steadying breath to calm her nerves. That's when she realized she was surrounded by him— his touch, his scent: the smell of numerous potions' ingredients that clung to his robes suffused into a heady bouquet, and underneath it all was the essence of the man himself.

Gulping, she felt his hands fully encompass her own, grasping the silver knife she held, as together, they began to slice, cutting on a cross-wise slant that yielded far more of the sticky-sweet sap than necessary for the potion; in fact, far more than she had ever yielded with just herself.

His lips were right near her ear as he stated lowly, "You must tell me again why the properties of asphodel stems are necessary to this particular potion."

She felt her knees grow weak.

He moved forward until his body was pressed fully against hers, and she was held up by the potion's bench at her front and his hands holding hers. Hermione could feel the long line of his front pressing against her as he held her to him, the two of them still working in tandem to cut the stems.

His nose slightly nuzzled her neck behind her ear, his breath warm as he said, "I'm waiting, Miss Granger." His voice—dear gods, his voice!—sent shivers all the way down her spine.

She began unsteadily, her heart beating fast, "Asphodel's properties are…associated with immortality, specifically of the under…world..." His index finger began to slightly rub over her own where they together held the knife. She began to tremble. "The stem specifically… yields sap…" she felt his breath again at her ear as he bent over presumably to check the contents of the cauldron. He again nuzzled her neck with his nose, and she moaned, turning more into him.

"Miss Granger, are you finding it hard to pay attention?" he asked her, but without his usual bite.

"I—errrm, …very," she answered distractedly, her head still slightly turned towards his as their cheeks almost but not quite met.

"Good."

She turned her head until she was looking up at him. Dark eyes met honey-brown as he intoned, "Now, for the best student I've ever taught, why is the sap of the asphodel a necessary ingredient in this healing and strengthening solution? Why couldn't we say, replace it with wormwood or some other herb that mimics the same effects?"

_Good gods! Had he just complemented her?!_ She replayed the sentence looking for any snark, any bite to it and could find none. His tone even lacked its customary dripping sarcasm.

"Miss Granger, I'm waiting," he voiced impatiently, his eyes urging hers for an answer.

"Its …forgiving nature…." She gulped. "Asphodel sap… has properties that tend to dampen, errm… _diminish_ the other more volatile ingredients in the potion… yielding for a more stable brew," she ended breathlessly. Had she made any sense whatsoever? Gods! His finger was still rubbing teasingly back and forth along her own, his smell—his proximity—was lethal to her focus, and his eyes were staring fully into hers…

Deliberately taking the knife and laying it down, he took her hands in his and turned her until she was facing him fully with her back to the steaming cauldron. "Precisely," he said, "It is forgiving; just as I would like you to be towards me, Ms. Granger."

She looked at him, her curiosity plain.

He gave her a half-smile, and her heart thunked at the change it gave his usually dour expression. "Forgive me, Ms. Granger. A thousand and one times forgive me for how I've treated you in the past," he looked at her knowingly, "and how I'm almost certainly going to treat you in the future."

_Forgive him?_ For all the mean, snarky comments, the cruel, brusque nature, the way he could cut her down with only a few well-placed words….

But he was holding her so close to him, his hands encompassing hers, and oh! it was so very easy to forgive him when he looked at her like that, easy when she was surrounded by his touch, his scent, enveloped by him.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled his scent once more and then opened them to give him a level look. "A thousand and one times, Severus." She nodded. "I accept your apology."

His eyes flared with surprise and then gratitude as he nodded.

Abruptly though, his expression morphed, turning menacing. "Good. Now turn around. You know you're never supposed to turn your back on an active cauldron, girl, or have I taught you nothing?"

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Lucius watched as Severus spun Hermione around towards the potion's bench and put his arms about her once more, ostensibly to illustrate yet more unique ways to prepare potions ingredients. Hermione's color was high and her eyes bright with both happiness and the beginnings of desire; Severus, meanwhile, had an actual smile on his face… or as near to one as Lucius had ever seen the man give as he bent forward and nuzzled the young woman's neck, purring something into her ear.

Hermione moaned, and he saw her visibly tremble as Severus's arms came around fully to support her and keep her upright.

Breaking away from the wall, Lucius walked casually toward the couple. "What's this, potions after hours?"

Hermione visibly started, but Severus only looked up in mild interest as she answered, "We're making a healing and strengthening solution for Madam Pomfrey. She's running a bit low."

"Oh, is she now?" Eyebrow quirked, Lucius saw Severus's cheeks redden slightly, and he smiled predatorily to see it. "I suppose there would be too many masters at the cauldron if I were to lend my services as well?"

Severus said, "By all means." And moved over until he was to the side of Hermione, still slightly behind her and keeping his arm loosely held around her waist. Lucius stepped beside her and tucked one of her ever-present escaped curls behind her ear.

His eyes met Severus's.

"We're not really here to brew now are we?"

The both of them looked down in surprise at the witch who stood between them. She was looking at them with a half-knowing / half-curious expression on her face. As they stared, her cheeks tinged pink. "I mean, I really hope we're not here just to brew…"

Lucius cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "And just what is it you have in mind, Ms. Granger?"

"Well,… " she bit her lip, "… just bear in mind, you did ask…"

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Hermione wanted a bed, a large, smooth expanse of sheets. And so, it appeared before the three of them. The room now had a soft glow from the candles and moonlight that filtered throughout, and she turned her back on the two wizards and began to take off her clothes, starting with the torturous clip binding her hair.

Not a moment later, she closed her eyes in surrender as two sets of hands began to oh-so-very attentively help her undress, one at her top, caressing and molding her breasts first through her blouse and then without as he unbuttoned and removed it and the bra she wore, the other at her bottoms, unzipping and pushing them down so they fell in a heap to the floor. Her knickers were quickly brushed away and then knowing fingers were delving into her damp curls, seeking out her clit and giving it a soft, playful caress that had her parting her thighs further and rolling her head back onto the robed chest of whoever was behind her cupping and kneading her breasts to taut peaks of arousal.

She opened her eyes to find Severus holding her in his arms and Lucius kneeling before her, the both of them watching her carefully… reverently.

She gave a bemused smile. "It really is impolite to undress a lady and not follow suit, don't you think?"

"Did you hear that, Severus? The gel is taunting us."

She smirked down at Lucius and nodded, and then turning around in Severus's arms, studied his expression, reading hopefulness, shyness, and certain reluctance mixed with just a tinge of fear.

Smiling softly, she told him, "Did you know that I have always wanted to do this?" And rising to her tip-toes, she started at the top of his cravat and began the very lengthy process of unbuttoning the man. She smirked when she saw his eyes widen. After about five buttons, she looked behind her to see Lucius waving his hand and dispensing with his own clothes altogether.

Both Severus and Hermione stood spell-bound as they looked their fill of him.

The man _was_ beautiful: blond and sinewy, tall, muscular and fine-boned, his hair fanning his shoulders, and the sparse trail of curled blond hair that led to his erection...

He was a wizard in his prime, and a gorgeous prime it was.

Lucius cocked an eyebrow, "Pardon, but we really do not have all night, and there are these things called zips nowadays, Severus." Waving his hand, Lucius dispensed with Severus's clothes as well, and quite suddenly, Hermione was standing amidst two fully grown—and completely nude—wizards.

"Good gods, Severus! Is that over-boastful dreaming on your part or is that a club you've been toting around all these years?"

Hermione looked down, her eyes widening.

Lucius had a point.

Apparently, ex-professor Severus Snape had been packing some serious wand-power. She looked up and met his eyes, taken aback by the red flush she spotted creeping from his neck up to his cheeks.

Completely charmed, Hermione dimpled fully at him with the realization that she had just made Severus Snape blush!

Lucius gave her but a moment to enjoy it, however, for he moved behind her, running his hands up and down her torso and flanks, squeezing and molding her breasts, building her back up to fever-pitch need and want. Moaning, she looked up to find Severus watching them, his hesitancy plain for her to read. Reaching out, she caught him by the hand and placed it proprietarily on her breast as she pulled him down for a long kiss.

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_Goddess. My Goddess! And how she does delight in my worship at her flesh! To sip the dew from her honeyed curls and mine the trove of her desire for my efforts. To run my tongue across her milky inner thigh, hearing her moan for me—my name!—clutching at my hair, raking her nails across the flesh at my nape in want! In desire! __**In need.**__ And I come too, my goddess, when she calls out my name._

—From the private thoughts of Severus Tobias Snape

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_Oh, Gods! This just couldn't be happening! Surely, a human being would die of synaptic overload. Surely!_ Hermione shut her eyes tight, blocking out some—any— sensory input, unfortunately only serving to heighten others.

_It was too much, my gods! Too much. _She began to pant, moaning again her release.

Recovering but slightly, she heard Lucius caution, "Go easy, Severus. We want to keep her dreaming as long as possible."

Their pace slowed—oh, thank the gods!— and Hermione opened her eyes once more and looked behind her to see Lucius laying beneath her on the bed, his hands holding her secured to him by her breasts. She was currently impaled on him where she sat with Severus above her filling her quim to the full, her legs up around his shoulders as he moved frantically above them.

"…Severus." Lucius warned.

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_Gods! Severus pace was going to be the death of him!_

Lucius grit his jaw and shut his eyes, letting his head fall away as he clutched the little witch who was currently impaled to the hilt in her back passage upon his Longfellow, again riding out her orgasm and reflexively clutching him from within. Gods! But she was tight! Even in dreams, she was tight!

She brought back a hand and clutched at the hair at his nape, and he bit back a moan as he felt himself beginning to crest once more.

Cock rings! He was going to have to buy a set of cock rings!

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_**A/N: **_Your authoress hopes you have thoroughly enjoyed this chapter. I couldn't wait to post it! If you did, please leave a review in the kitty to let me know how much. …more soon to follow.

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	15. The Morning After

Ch. 15—The Morning After

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Lucius watched Hermione sleep, her cheeks flushed, her breathing deep and even.

It was morning.

_Late_ morning. And the gel was still abed; a highly unusual occurrence for one Ms. Hermione Granger. In fact, as long as Lucius had known her, he'd never known her to sleep in.

Severus lay on the other side of her, nestled up to her back: his entire manner the epitome of self-satisfied relaxation. Lucius wondered absently if this meant Severus still had his virginity. It was more than enthusiastically apparent that he had never… well, Lucius thanked the gods for the dreaming state they were in for neither he nor Severus would have lasted out the starting gate without it.

It had felt like they were really there with her, the three of them doing such deliciously forbidden things to one another, and dear Gods, the insatiability of the other two!

Lucius had lost count somewhere around seven. And for every one of theirs, Hermione usually received two. No wonder she slept in, the poor gel must be exhausted!

How he wished he could hold her!

Only a few more days…that was unless they convinced her that they were actually _there_ _with her_ and she invited them to share her bed…

He moved closer to her, running his hand along the side of her neck; she nestled sweetly into his palm, and how he wished he could feel it!

There was a knock on the door.

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Hermione's eyes shot open, and she sat bolt upright.

_Merlin! _

What time was it?!

Her hand automatically reached under the pillow for her wand… …which was in her bag because she was not using it this week… _Gods!_ She ran a shaky hand down her face feeling absolutely grotty.

What the hell happened last ni—

"Hermione? Is everything alright, Sweets? … …Hermione?" The knocking continued.

_Michael. _

She rose/ stumbled from the bed, and that's when she looked down and saw the noticeably damp patch on her pajamas, the bed, HELL! It was even on her t-shirt! WHAT THE BUGGERING FU—

"Hermione…?"

"Just a minute," she called out, her voice less than steady.

She looked around, finally spying her robe in a heap, and threw it on, tying it securely—very securely—around herself.

And taking a moment to calm her breathing, she answered the door.

"Thank God! For a moment there, I thought you had left me."

Michael walked into her sitting room, seeming to make himself at home.

Grimacing, Hermione finger-combed her very mussed hair, trying to tame it into a semblance of order as he sat in the wingback chair and looked up at her expectantly.

That was wrong. He shouldn't be sitting there. But _why_ shouldn't he be sitting there?

"Well, you certainly took my advice to have a rest to heart, Sweets." Michael grinned at her. "It's almost noon."

Hermione winced. "Oh, is it?" She perched on the arm of the couch, drawn there.

"Yes, you've quite wreaked havoc with my plans today, let me tell you." He smiled disarmingly. "But it's alright, Sweets. I can tell last night helped; you look leagues better than I've seen you look in ages."

She blushed under his scrutiny, and biting her lip, rose and sat in the middle of the couch, feeling infinitely calmer there.

"Would you like to know what's on the agenda for today?"

Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "Volunteering information now, are you?"

He winced. "More…seeing if you're even amenable to the idea…"

Her curiosity piqued, she asked, "And what idea is that, Fortenbrass?"

"A little nature hike or 'walk in the woods' as the locals like to call it." He looked at her hopefully.

She shook her head. "You know I don't hike… and I hardly ever leave civilization if I can help it. You _know_ that."

He nodded. "I _do_ know that, but Hermione, this is a place that can't be missed! Trust me, love; you will be overjoyed you went. I promise!"

She shook her head. "I just don't—"

"I do hate to play this card, but —" Michael rose, and making his way over to her, knelt beside her. Distinctly uncomfortable with his proximity, Hermione drew her robes tighter about herself. He looked at her with pleading green eyes, "—Sweets, I've been right about you and your taste every step of the way, and I just know you are going to love this. So please, love! Let's spend one afternoon rucksacking, and then you can go back to your lab in the '_Dungeons'_ and never, ever will you have to grace the Great Outdoors with your presence again."

She laughed. "You make me sound positively mole-ish."

His eyebrows rose, and he pursed his lips, obviously biting back his retort.

She sighed. "Alright, alright, I'll go! Gods! Just… let me… at least take a shower. And coffee, please gods, give me some coffee."

He nodded enthusiastically, and quickly grasped her hands where they held together the edges of her robe, releasing them just as quickly as he rose. "Anything! I'll even see if I can sweet-talk reception into getting you one of those nut muffins you were so fond of." He made for the door, his smile ecstatic. "You won't be sorry, Sweets! I promise you that!"

She only shook her head, and following him, made sure the door was latched securely behind him.

Gods, men!

_Men._

Suddenly, she had the most peculiar longing to know what Severus and Lucius were up to. She missed them.

Terribly.

Rummaging through her luggage, she finally found her old beaded bag and reaching in up to the elbow, pulled out the two-way mirror that would connect her with Lux Aeterna.

"Daphne Greengrass," she spoke into the mirror and watched as the gray fog swirled and coalesced into a comfortable-looking reception area with a beautiful brunette manning the helm.

The brunette looked up at the mirror and smiled. "Hello, Ms. Granger, and how is your vacation going?"

Smiling, Hermione rolled her eyes. "Tedious."

The other woman only shook her head. "I told you, you couldn't even make it a week."

Hermione laughed. "Yes, well, it's my week for hearing 'I told you so's' apparently. Listen, are either Lucius or Severus around? I'd really like to talk with them if they have a moment, but don't under any circumstances disturb Severus if he's in his lab; I don't want our liability premiums to go up again."

Daphne looked at her curiously. "But, Ms. Granger…Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Snape have taken leave as well. The three of you decided to go on holiday. At least, that's what Mr. Malfoy explained when he talked to me last Saturday."

Hermione's eyebrows rose. "Ah. So…there's no one manning the office?" Her tone was a bit panicked towards the end… panicked _and_ shrill.

Daphne gave her a knowing look, "You know as well as I do that all accounts and experimentation have been suspended until you three get back. Mr. Malfoy made sure to give the company a week's paid leave as well. In fact, I'm currently the only one in office right now, and I'm earning double-time."

Feeling the beginnings of a headache start to form, Hermione said, "Ah. Daphne, what exactly were Lucius's words when he last talked to you?" She rubbed the place between her brows.

Daphne looked at her perfectly manicured nails and then up at her through lowered lashes. "Well, he said that it was about time we all had a break from working like house elves, and so, he told me to draft a company-wide memo that would ensure all of us got one week's paid leave as all work would be halted for holiday effective Sunday through Sunday next."

Closing her eyes and pursing her lips, Hermione drew a deep breath and counted down from ten. And when that wasn't enough, she did it again …then again.

"… …Ms. Granger?"

"Wha—oh, Daphne, I'm sorry! Look, you're fine. It must have… just slipped my mind, what with all the excitement I've been having."

Daphne's look told her she didn't believe her for one second.

Hermione winced. "Just… keep doing what it is Lucius told all of you to do, dratted man! I swear one of these days!" She shook her fist to the mirror, and Daphne laughed.

"Have a good rest of your holiday, Ms. Granger."

Hermione shook her head. "And you apparently as well, Daphne."

Ending the spell with a word, she put the mirror away and massaged her temples furiously. Just what the hell were those two up to? She didn't believe their cover of 'holiday' for a second. They were up to something, and her mind raced furiously to think of what it was…

She was working with two master Slytherins who were more than adept at word play and mental mind fudgery. When she had told Severus of her plans for holiday, she had made sure to do so in his lab when he was most distracted, and with Lucius present to buffer if necessary. She had told them she was going with a friend, but she didn't elaborate. And thankfully, neither of them had inquired further: Severus because he was distracted, and Lucius—her mind flew back to that conversation looking for any tells that Lucius might have let slip to his plans. …Lucius had looked at her, his eyes knowing and with a slight smirk on his lips.

It was the smirk that worried her.

And she hadn't recognized it until now… …and she had no idea where Lucius and Severus now were… her thoughts spun as her mind whirled with possibilities.

Finally concluding that, as of yet, she just didn't have enough information, she addressed the empty room, her tone lethal with promise, "I don't know what you two are up to, but I will eventually find out, and when I do…" she trailed off, the threat going unspoken.

Her hands itched to grab her agenda to see how far behind this was going to set them. _You're on vacation_, she reminded herself. _No work!_ Hermione forced herself to put down her old beaded bag and walk back to the bedroom and away from all the work that now awaited her.

Her gaze immediately fell on the mussed bed—the bed that looked more than a little rumpled for her having slept in it alone last night.

She peered down at the robe she was wearing and parted it slightly revealing her still damp pajamas and knickers.

_A wet dream. Sweet Merlin! _She'd had a wet dream!

She blushed as she examined the damp spot on the bed and her blush gave way to a wry smile. Apparently, it had been the best one she'd ever had if the sheets had anything to say on the subject. Taking out her wand, Hermione ruthlessly cast 'scourgify' on her clothes and the rumpled bedclothes, and then once more stowing her wand in the drawer by her nightstand, she made her way to the bath.

Gods! But a nice, relaxing bath was just what she needed if she was going to face this day.

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_**A/N:**_ hmm, what could those bad boys be up to, I wonder? more soon to follow. ;D

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	16. Rubber Ducky, You're the One

Ch. 16— Rubber Ducky, You're the One

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Severus Snape was not a man that prayed, let alone thanked the gods for the blessings bestowed him. But as Hermione shed her robe, knickers, and gray t-shirt, Severus almost fell to his knees before the witch in supplication.

Drawing herself a bath, she sank slowly into the water, wincing as the cold side of the tub met with her back. And then she was motionless, letting her neck and the heavy fall of her hair lay back against the rim of the tub as her muscles went lax, and she sighed, her breasts bobbing slightly in the motion of the water.

After last night, Lucius and he neither saw the point in modesty between the three of them. Oh, the witch may have something to say about that when she found out, but Severus would do his damndest to make the truth-letting as easy for the girl as possible. Besides, after last night, he really did not think he could be without her.

Not for a moment.

His need of her was due in part to their altered physical state he was certain. She was literally feeding them, sustaining them on her dreams. And how she would savor the irony when she found out; after all, she'd been doing so for years…this was just a more _literal_ interpretation.

The simple fact remained though that he loved the little witch and had shown her his love last night. Granted, it was through dreams, but at this point, in Severus's thinking, it was all semantics.

Hermione cared about him…cared about them—he and Lucius—and last night, she had shown them just how much …repeatedly and with wild abandon.

Naked, both Severus and Lucius joined her in the warm water, sitting to either side of her in the oval-shaped tub as she rested, closing her eyes and laying back her head.

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It was Lucius that began it, tip-toeing his fingers across the mounds of her breasts.

Severus watched intrigued as her already slightly puckered areolas became even more so. He didn't think it was due to the cold for it was actually quite steamy in the bath. Lucius turned until he was facing her, and blew insubstantially on one of her puckered nipples, and both watched as it hardened still more due to his attentions. Hermione's hand flew to it absently and chafed it between her fingers, slightly relaxing the flesh.

Lucius smiled and meeting Severus's eyes, nodded.

Not needing to be told twice, Severus moved until he faced her and began to blow insubstantial breath and rain non-existent licks on her other nipple that was rapidly becoming pearl-tipped as well.

Hermione gasped, her eyes flying open as she cupped and rubbed both breasts, again chafing her nipples in effort to relax them. Yet, the harder she squeezed, the more Lucius and Severus blew and licked until she was moaning slightly and rubbing them erotically between her fingers.

They both continued in their ministrations to the witch, and she squirmed before them, the water rippling around her as she tried to relieve herself of their phantom stimuli.

Severus dipped his fingers in the warm water, and finding her slit, plunged inside and _through_ her.

She gasped.

Lucius found her clit and began giving it little phantom flicks with his finger, teasing her.

Her hand left a breast and made its way unerringly to her hooded flesh, and she began to self-massage. Severus, meanwhile, began to whisper suggestions in her ear, urging her to plunge her fingers into herself, to seek relief and release: that, for now, she couldn't have it any other way.

Moaning, she did so, her other hand leaving her breast to travel down to her mound as she plunged two fingers into her now sopping-slick folds and began to fuck herself repeatedly with them.

Taking himself in hand as he continued to whisper naughty suggestions in her ear, Severus felt himself begin the climb. He looked over to see Lucius taking business in hand as well, all the while providing stimulus to her breasts with his phantom's touch and lips.

She came with a staggered gasp, her eyes flying open, with Severus and Lucius not long trailing behind.

Her voice shook as she ran a trembling, wet hand down her steam and sweat-dappled face, "My gods! I'm turning into a sex-fiend."

Severus could only pray this was the case.

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_**A/N:**_ Bonus Smut for my readers! ;D I do hope you enjoyed that little chapter of naughtiness b/c from here on in, the shite's gonna get **REAL!**

Now, I need a bit of help with a chapter I'm working on now, and so I'm reaching out to you, my readers, for support.

Here goes: What is the most annoying song in the world?

I have one in mind, but I don't want to limit myself if there's another, better one out there…if it's available to listen to on the web or Spotify, I will listen to it and make my decision. Should I choose _your_ song, you will, of course, be credited in my fic for helping with the creative process.

And by the way, I do hope you're enjoying my little tale, and thank you so much for reading!

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	17. The Game of 'Yes' and 'No'

Ch. 17— The Game of 'Yes' and 'No'

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Bath-time strangeness aside, Hermione dressed for hiking summer in the great outdoors in a t-shirt, jeans, her hair braided into a thick rope that fell down her back, and she wore her doc martens— for surely they wouldn't be climbing mountains or journeying up cliff sides.

She met Michael in the lobby, and bless him, he handed her a cup of coffee and the muffin he had promised. And she inhaled it, utterly famished, as they began their walk. She was a bit surprised to learn that they didn't have to drive there, but Michael had only smiled as he led her to a narrow hiking trail behind their hotel.

"This is one of the reasons that I chose this particular hotel, Sweets." He began leading her deeper and deeper into the green canopied forest. "The property of the hotel abuts right up against a part of the AT or the Appalachian Trail which is nick-named the 'Green Tunnel' for obvious reasons I should think."

Looking around, Hermione nodded in agreement; it was unrelieved green, deciduous forest as far as the eye could see.

She was not comforted by this.

Oh, but she'd had her fill of hiking and camping, heartily had her fill of the great outdoors during her seventh year of schooling. It was rare for her to ever journey outside the city because she, for the most part, liked the noise and congestion its inhabitants brought. She liked the manicured lawns and orderly streets. It reminded her that she too was a living, breathing, contributing part of civilization.

Whereas the forest only reminded her of time wasted and spent wandering aimlessly adrift.

She reluctantly followed Michael as he led her deeper down the dirt path which widened to allow both of them to walk side-by-side, and all the while, he was extolling the virtues of the trail they were on.

"This land mass is among the oldest land masses on Earth, did you know that, Sweets? The Appalachians themselves are the oldest mountains on the North American Continent, spanning 1600 miles and over fourteen states. …."He continued on as they walked, and she listened with half an ear letting him lead them. For some reason, she felt a little crowded in and fell back slightly from Michael so that she could have more room. They journeyed on, her thoughts trying to keep upbeat, but the surrounding forest was making it difficult. It was just so pervasively quiet, the birdsong even sounded hushed as they went deeper and deeper into the 'woods'.

She hated this kind of quiet.

It forced her towards introspection—and she'd had enough of that to last a lifetime it seemed. Wearing that damned locket, it feeding on her negative thoughts and emotions, encouraging them, and if not for Harry and Ron… she'd be dead.

Her eyes grew wistful at that.

The boys…_her boys_. One forever remaining as such and the other a broken wreck of a man that refused any of her attempts to reach out to him.

It wasn't a romantic inclination on her part to do so.

Harry was her friend.

Through everything that had occurred while in that tent, they had all three of them remained friends first and lovers a very distant second.

During that awkward, aimless time, they were all things to one another: friend and mother, father and brother, sister, tormenter, father confessor… they loved one another deeply, but their relationship had never been about romance, had never contained even an element of it.

It was just another aspect of their friendship; no more, no less.

Hermione looked up, disturbed from her thoughts by the sensation of a weight—almost as if there was a hand— on the small of her back, guiding her forward solicitously.

She stopped walking, and the hand pressed deeper into her back, almost causing her to stumble before it—_he?_— registered that she had stopped. She looked up, wide-eyed.

There was no one there.

She felt the pressure of the phantom hand lighten and then lift away from her back only to land feather-light on her arm.

Hermione jumped back, shrieking.

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"Hermione?" The muggle turned and made his way over to her while both Severus and Lucius stood back in wide-eyed astonishment. "What's wrong—what happened?"

"S—something touched me." Her face was white as parchment, and Lucius could see that she was shaking. He had been escorting the gel as she walked, his hand ghosting the small of her back while Severus stood to her right to keep the muggle at bay. For every time they did thus, Hermione would fall back so there was distance kept between her and the muggle. Besides, the trail they were on could accommodate the three of them but only just.

The muggle smiled down at her and picked a bit of spider web from her tightly- braided curls. "Is this what you felt, Sweets? I didn't think you were jumpy of little, bitty things that are more frightened of you than you are of them?"

"No," she shook her head earnestly, "that's not what I fel—"

"Sweets, we're in the 'woods' as the locals like to call this little bit of wilderness. It's very isolated and only natural for you to feel a bit on edge. Add to that your unease with wilderness locales in general, and you have a recipe for nervousness and paranoia." The blackguard removed some more of the sticky web from her face and caressed her chin lightly with his thumb.

Hermione jerked back from his grasp, turning away from him, and Lucius could read fury in her eyes at the muggle's words, touch, and his more than condescending tone. The muggle sighed. "What I have to show you is not much further, if you can hold on just a little bit more?" He moved until he was in front of her, his eyes pleading with hers.

Steel-jawed and obviously reluctant, Hermione nodded tersely as the muggle man continued to lead her down this less-than primrose path.

Lucius's eyes locked on Severus, communicating a host of ideas, thoughts, and suggestions with but a look. Severus nodded and together, they began to follow the muggle and Hermione, this time keeping their distance.

Ms. Granger, it seemed, could tangibly feel them. And if she could feel them, then there was a chance she could _hear_ them as well.

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The place Michael was escorting her _was_ magical… literally it was filled with magic—overflowing with it. Hermione could feel her pulse thrum in time with the magical rhythm of the place as old as Stonehenge; older perhaps, because the mountains were ancient. It was nestled at the bottom of a little ravine amidst primeval oak trees and gnarled branches.

Michael stopped, and unzipping his rucksack, handed her a bottle of water. Hermione took a grateful pull and held the cool water up to the back of her neck, basking in the beat of the place, the rhythm.

"Well, what do you think?" Michael looked at her questioningly.

She smiled, delighted. "I think it's wonderful!" She bit her lip, positively giddy with the sensation of finding such an untapped well of spontaneous magical energy.

But how had he known to bring her here?

"Drink your water, Sweets. We don't want you to become dehydrated."

Smiling, she did so, watching as he unpacked the rucksack with their lunch, spreading a checkered-cloth blanket on the forest floor.

"This is where we're going to picnic?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

"Can you think of any place better?" He countered, holding up a plate for her to take.

She shook her head and sat. "How did you find this place?"

He smiled wryly. "A magician never reveals his secrets, Sweets. _You_ should know that."

The comment struck her a bit odd, and she wrinkled her nose about to question him further, when she felt the ghostly hand from before return… this time to her shoulder. She stiffened.

Touching her face lightly in a caress, the hand took one of her loose curls and tucked it behind her ear. She swallowed back a gasp.

_Lucius?!_

"So tell me, Sweets, for I'm not getting tired of hearing it, was I right? Isn't this place simply breath-taking in its beauty? Almost magical some would say." Again, there was something odd about his tone, some discordant note that didn't ring true.

She pursed her lips, her thoughts spinning wildly. Lucius was here! Gods! Lucius was here, but why couldn't she see him?!

"I know. Let's take a picture of you in this spot."

Hermione shook her head, and muttered distractedly, "No, no photographs, please."

"Why, afraid the camera will steal your soul?" he teased.

"Something like that," she mumbled as her mind continued to churn; the hand touching her face moved until it was cupping her hand.

She heard a shutter sound and looked up. Michael looked at her from the scope of the camera lens he held; his expression unrepentant. He shrugged. "Sorry, Sweets, but you just looked so beautiful sitting there; I wanted to take your picture for posterity's sake. You know, when you return back to London, pictures and memories are all I'm going to have to sustain me." He smiled disarmingly at her.

She did not return the smile. "Please, no more pictures," she muttered, feeling the hand move to her elbow and begin urging her upwards until she was standing. Quickly, she made some excuse…. "errm, call of nature…I'll be… back in a moment." And she followed the invisible hand to where it led her.

She heard Michael say behind her, "Alright, Sweets. But hurry, we need to make it back before dark sets in."

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While Lucius tried to draw Hermione away from the bastard, Severus began experimenting with ways to increase their magical imprint so they could communicate.

Lucius and he had discussed what to do with their newfound tangibility, and it was decided after much back and forth between them that until they could speak to her, tell her the danger she was in, they could do nothing to touch the muggle prick. She would run off for help, perhaps even taking the prick with her, and thus, would play even further into the bastard's hands.

After all, they still had absolutely no idea what the prick's plans for her were, and so far, could only speculate. And speculation without verification did not just cause for murder make… not even for two has-been Death Eaters such as he and Lucius.

However, this little wellspring held the key, Severus was certain, of being able to communicate with her.

It was a place of spontaneous magic—one of few found throughout the globe—and it was ancient: the magical reserve barely tapped into by either wizard or the surrounding forest inhabitants.

Drawing his wand, Severus tried—and failed—to levitate a fallen leaf.

But the fizzle—the flat butterbeer-like tingle—he had felt the very first night he had tried to cast a spell while in this state had subsided a bit. Severus couldn't do magic, that much was true… but he could tangibly touch objects. He bent down and picked up the leaf, holding it to his eyes.

Here, in the nexus of the wellspring, he could manipulate matter, touch things, move them... but no more effectively than a squib…

But he felt stronger, more magically capable, as if this place was feeding or energizing him in some way.

And it was _this_ that led to his discovery:

Severus recalled the bastard Mic's lesson on resonance. As it had been so aptly demonstrated, certain frequencies of sound waves could resonate within the human body causing either destruction or pleasure in their wake.

So too could waves of magical energy. After all, what was a spell or curse but a pulse of magical energy directly focused? An extension of the witch's or wizard's will.

And like so many witches and wizards gathering their powers together to enhance a magical working, this wellspring had an energy pulse that if tapped into—resonated with—could yield him more power.

Not for magic. In this semi-existence, he couldn't perform magic, but he could channel it, resonate with it. And through this, he could possibly acquire a more corporeal presence for himself and Lucius, if only enough to communicate to Hermione the danger she was in.

Now, all he had to do was begin the not-so-inconsiderable task of finding the right magical frequency so he could resonate with it.

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Hermione followed where the invisible hand led, one hand solicitously on the small of her back, the other holding onto hers. The invisible form that she thought was Lucius led her to a small, secluded spot at the bottom of a ravine, and as soon as they were out of Michael's hearing, her questions came rapid-fire.

"What's going on? Am I right, are you Lucius? Why can't I see you? Is everything alright? Where's Severus?"

She felt a hand fall on her lips, hushing her, and she jumped back into the invisible arms that held her fast. Hermione did a mental count. Two arms around her, one hand on her lips.

"Severus?" she mumbled around the fingers. She couldn't see him, but she felt him respond by an increase of pressure on her lips, and then he removed his hand and began tapping hers. Once and then twice.

She bit her lip, not knowing where he wanted her to go with this. Moving her hand up to his face, he tapped her hand once and nodded. He tapped her hand twice and shook his head. Her eyes widened. "Yes and no. You want me to ask questions, and you will respond with one tap for 'yes' and two taps for 'no', right?"

She felt one tap on her hand—_yes_.

"Got it." She nodded, only just realizing that the being she thought was Lucius still had his arms around her, practically holding her flush against the front of him while Severus still held her hand against his cheek.

She blushed as she asked her first question.

"You can't speak to me?" Two taps—_No_. "I can't see you." This was more statement than question, and she could practically _feel_ Severus rolling his eyes at her.

"Are you in danger, under a curse?" Two taps—_No_.

Lucius took her other hand in his and folding every finger but her index finger, pointed it at herself. Looking down, Hermione gulped. "Am I in danger?" One tap—_Yes_.

"What? That's ridicu—" Again, she felt the pressure of Severus's hand on her mouth, and she gasped, feeling his proximity move closer to hers. In fact, if she closed her eyes, she could just imagine his face within inches of hers, staring daggers at her. Her eyes narrowed to slits, "I don't know what game the two of you are play—"

Again, she felt his hand at her lips, and she broke away from it and from Lucius's restraining hold.

"Hermione?"

She looked up to find Michael watching her curiously. She blushed crimson. "I—"

"Communing with nature are you, Sweets?"

She smiled tersely. "Something like that. I errm… are you ready to go? I just—I'm not feeling well, and I really have to get back."

Again, Michael looked at her oddly, but he nodded. "Yes, our picnic is packed up. Not that you partook of any of the goodies therein, but we are ready to go back. In fact, it's best we hurry. Our late start this morning means that we'll be cutting it close in arriving before dusk sets in."

Both Lucius and Severus returned to stand beside her. Someone's hand was at her back, propelling her to keep up as they began the return journey. Hermione could not tell who was who. She only knew that she felt nearly squeezed to death between them as they walked three-abreast down the dirt path.

They had only been walking a few seconds or more when an invisible hand seized hers. From the rough way her hand was grabbed and fingers folded, she surmised that it was Severus who held it. He took her index finger and pointed it to Michael's back, shaking her hand wildly for emphasis. Lucius grabbed her other hand and put it on his cheek, and she could feel him nodding his agreement.

Michael, unfortunately, chose that moment to look back at her. He stopped in his tracks, his eyebrows raised in question.

Hermione pulled away from the two, and flinging her hands wide, connected with someone's cheek. "A-ahem. Sorry. Felt another spider web…I was trying to fling it from my hand."

Michael narrowed his eyes at her but refrained from making comment. He turned back around, and she bent down to 'tie' her shoe, mumbling to her laces. "Are you trying to tell me that Michael is out to harm me in some way?"

One tap on her hand—yes.

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_**A/N:**_ Skimming time from work to post=bad employee/wonderful authoress ;D

Thus stated, I won't be able to reply to last chapter's reviews until I get home later on tonight. BTDubbs, thank you all so much for your reviews and follows and favorites…and just plain keeping up with my little tale. It means the world to this little authoress that you find it intriguing enough to keep reading :D

okay, okay, back to the salt mines I go!

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	18. Epic 'I Told You So'

Ch. 18— Epic 'I Told You So'

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Lucius's hand was still pressed on her back, and she could still sense Severus's proximity close next to her, but with every step away from the magical wellspring, the link between the three of them was weakening until she realized she could no longer sense Lucius's hand at all.

She gulped, feeling unaccountably bereft and very much abandoned. And now, she was alone with Michael… the man they had implied meant her harm.

But wait…

Had that even been Severus and Lucius? Surely, they wouldn't stoop so low as to follow her on her vacation…

…on second thought, of course they would!

_But why?_ Why would they follow her?!

It made no sense.

Hermione walked blindly behind Michael, her thoughts spinning wildly. Was her mind playing tricks on her due to the magic that had been at that place? Was it just some strange facsimile she made up to solve the mystery of the two's disappearance? Oh, how she wished she had asked better questions! Verified their identities!

Gods, what had she been thinking?

And what of Michael taking her to that place?

By rights, he shouldn't have even known it existed. It wasn't as if it was protected or warded in any way, but… muggles weren't supposed to feel magic of that scope, that magnitude. They weren't supposed to sense it. And there was nothing special about it…at least, from a muggle perspective.

She needed to get back to the hotel. That's what it came down to. She needed to get back to the hotel, and from there, she would plan.

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"Hermione, love?" Michael questioned her as he gestured that she should enter the elevator ahead of him. Again, that feeling of being cramped in the space overcame her, and she moved until she was in the corner, her back against both walls.

"So, I figured we could do dinner in the lounge after we clean up a bit," he said as he escorted her to her door and smiled down at her.

"What? Oh, I—I don't think so." She shook her head, her hand on the door. She rubbed at her face tiredly. "I'm sorry, Michael, but I feel a little off since our hike, and I think I just want to make an early night of it." She grimaced. "You know, start fresh in the morning." She looked up at him to gauge his response.

He shook his head and stuck his foot in the door, barring her from closing it. "You know something, Sweets, you're really wreaking havoc on my plans today." Michael smiled disarmingly at her, and she noticed for the first time that his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. She had but a moment's warning before he was ripping her door open and shoving into the room.

"MICHA—"

He backhanded her across the face, laying her flat on the floor.

Crouching over her, he whispered in her ear. "Don't move."

And rising, he turned to close the door.

Blinking dazedly, Hermione shook off the dizziness she felt. _Wand. _She had to get her wand!

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Lucius watched helplessly as staggering to her feet, Hermione tried to make her way to the bedroom. She was almost to the door when the muggle filth pulled something out of his pocket, and aiming it at her, shot wired projectiles into her back.

There was a clacking sound, and she screamed, dropping to the floor like a stone and quivering as if under Cruciatus. The blackguard straddled her, bringing her hands above her head and pinning them above her one-handed.

"Michael, why?" She panted. "Why are you doing this?"

He held up the little black device he had fired at her. "I think you'll listen to me this time, Sweets, when I tell you not to move, or I'll unload another fifty thousand volts into your system. You got me?"

She nodded, clearly frightened.

"There might be something to that 'Brightest Witch of your Age' title you hold after all, now come to think on it." The muggle filth began patting his pockets, and upon finding the object he was looking for, drew it out. It was a black pouch of some kind…and it held a muggle syringe.

"Michael wha—"

Lucius watched Hermione's eyes' widen.

The muggle looked down at her as he prepared the syringe. "You know good and damn well what you are, so let's not play coy, hmm? Now, I'm going to give you a little sedative, Sweets, and it will send you off to dreamland. So nighty-night, now."

"Michael, wait! Don't do this—" The filth pierced her in the vein of one of her hoisted arms, and Lucius watched in horror as a few seconds later, she went pliant in the muggle's hold, her pupils dilating as if she had taken a potion.

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Severus had never felt so powerless in his entire life!

He could do nothing—again—to stop the train-wreck in front of him from happening! He roared at the bastard, drawing his wand and flinging impotent curses that, of course, did nothing to stop the muggle prick from doing exactly what it was he wanted to do.

Severus knew. He had known from the moment the muggle had taken her to that place of spontaneous magic in the forest that Hermione's life was in danger; he just hadn't enough time to communicate the danger she was in, and he hesitated. He didn't act. He didn't act when he had the chance to take the bastard out when he could touch him, and now, Hermione was paying the price.

Hoisting her over his shoulder and carrying her over to the bed, the bastard prick threw her none-too-gently atop the covers and pulled out his muggle cellular.

Pressing a button, he held the device up to his ear.

Both Severus and Lucius drew close to hear the voice on the other end of the line.

"What is it Fortenbrass?"

"Situation's gone tits up, Commandant, sir. I couldn't lead her to the lab as we were planning. We fought, and I have her sedated. I took her to the site this afternoon and gave her the radioactive isotope via a bottle of water. Sir, through the lens, she glowed like a god-damned candle. I'll upload the picture I took to you as soon as I can. It's worth mentioning that I caught an anomaly in the photo too. There was what looked like a human hand there. _Another being_. The situation's too precarious, and it forced me to act, sir. "

The _Commandant_ on the other end of the phone sighed. "I understand, although the anomaly could have something to do with the place itself… what kind of sedation is she under?"

"Dilaudid and oxycodone as per the Doc's instructions. I also tasered her, sir. I believe she was going for her wand."

"Good thinking, Fortenbrass, but still—" the voice on the other end of the line grew impatient, "we aren't ready for her yet, and it's too dangerous to risk bringing her here… how long'd you say she'd be out?"

"I pumped her full of the cocktail, and I'm going to hook her up intravenously. She'll be out for at least another twelve to thirteen hours."

"Good. That'll buy us the time we need. While she's out, go ahead and draw some blood. Grieg wants to test the reaction the serum has on her blood first before we administer it. I know it's worked on the other creatures…but still, we don't want to kill the girl with a reaction if we can help it. Just bring some samples by. Doc'll take care of it."

"Yes, sir."

"Good, and Fortenbrass, make damn sure she's out and that she remains undisturbed. We don't want her to all of a sudden develop a penchant for sleep walking or some other such nonsense."

The bastard looked over at the bed where Hermione lay. "With all due respect, sir, that would be impossible. She's so high right now, and with the IV drip I'm going to give her, I wouldn't be surprised if she went flying out of that pretty, little head of hers. I'll hang the do-not-disturb sign on the door, though, and put a tag in her pocket for good measure."

"Well, just see that you do. Bring the picture you took and the blood samples and report back at base at twenty-one hundred."

"Yes, sir." The bastard prick lowered the device from his ear. He found her hotel key card, and placing the do-not-disturb sign on the door, quit her room.

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"Someone needs to go with him to see what we're up against." Lucius crouched down beside Hermione's bedside; her eyes were open, but they were vacant, dulled. He ghosted his hand across her cheek. "I would be useless here, Severus. At least you know about potions and their reactions with human physiology." He looked up at Severus with one eyebrow raised, "I guess it's too much to hope that you know about muggle ones as well?"

Severus sat down on the bed opposite him, and Lucius watched as he put his eyes on level with the sluggish pulse at her neck and then examined her fully dilated pupils. "What he gave her was a two-fold derivative of the poppy flower—opioids their called—and it's ham-fisted. It has none of the aesthetic of dreamless sleep and lots of negative effects."

Lucius nodded, "Well, that decides it then. I'll follow the muggle, and you stay with the gel."

Severus muttered absently, "I'm going to try to access her dreams" as he continued his visual examination. "If possible, I'm going to try and get her to the nexus of magic we came across this afternoon so that we can communicate with her."

They both watched as the muggle filth came back with a small black case which he lay atop the bed beside her. He took out what looked like a small, silver button and placed it deep in the back pocket of her muggle jeans. Fishing out yet another syringe from the case, the filth tapped the vein of her other arm and then proceeded to leech her blood.

He drew vial after vial of her precious life's essence as Lucius's own blood boiled.

And then, the muggle filth took up another syringe, and this time, plunged it into the back of her hand into one of her delicate blue veins, taping it there. He drew a clear bag from the black case and connecting some thin, clear tubing between the bag and the needle that stayed taped to the back of her hand, hung the bag full of liquid suspended from the bedpost where it stood malevolent sentry over her.

"There, that should do it, Sweets," the filth muttered as he caressed her cheek, and Lucius watched Hermione's eyes drift closed as whatever chemical that was in the clear plastic bag began to work its way into her body.

The muggle had just signed his death warrant with that act.

_The muggle was dead. _

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Severus could feel the tide of Hermione's awareness shift as she approached unconsciousness—a dream sleep—but it was muffled and unfocused like the static on an old muggle television.

He watched as Lucius left, trailing behind the muggle bastard, the vials of Hermione's blood tucked securely into the case the bastard carried under his arm, and Severus wasted no time in delving deep into her drugged dream state to try and access her dreams.

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_**A/N:**_ Oh, dear. Oh, dear! I just knew that Michael was bad news… and Severus and Lucius can't help her! What's a witch to do? Keep watch, dear readers. Keep watch!

Posting soon.

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	19. Of Bases…

Ch. 19— Of Bases…

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The muggle filth drove them for several hours; finally turning into a secured muggle stronghold located on the banks of the Tennessee River, someplace called Oak Ridge.

Lucius watched as, digging into the pocket at his lapel, the muggle filth flashed a security badge at the guard and the guard opened the gate to admit them in.

They pulled up in front of a low-lying building that obviously was subterranean, and Lucius followed the filth as he made his way down the underground levels to its bottom-most depths.

Lucius watched attentively as he spoke into a gray box imbedded within a concrete wall, "Special Agent Michael Fortenbrass here to see Dr. Grieg."

There was a buzzing sound, and then the steel-paneled door slid open to admit them in.

"Mic. You brought the samples?"

Lucius stepped inside to see an older American muggle in a white lab coat and spectacles waiting anxiously beside a mass of muggle scientific equipment. Stepping back to the corner so he could watch both muggles' faces, Lucius observed their conversation, paying attention to every detail for recollection later. Severus would want to know each and every nuance of this exchange, and Lucius wanted to make certain the memory was vivid enough for use in a Pensieve.

The muggle filth placed the black case on the table between them as he stated, "Normal or magical, Doc, they all fall when they're jolted with electricity."

"Hmm," came the noncommittal reply. "Lewis said you had to give her a shot and administer an IV; how's she doing?"

The filth shrugged. "She's completely out of it and should remain unconscious for the next nine or ten hours."

The muggle named 'Doc' removed a vial of Hermione's blood from the black case and held it up to the light. "Hard to believe that what's in this little vial contains the human genetic coding for magic."

"You know as well as I do, Doc, that magic is just science unexplained. And the serum should work as it's done for the magical animals we've tested it on."

The muggle Doc continued to examine the vial turning it this way and that in the light. "Still…"

"Still nothing. You knew the plan was for her to come with me to the lab tomorrow; I wanted to be certain she was a witch before I brought her here."

The other muggle nodded absently as he removed the remaining vials of Hermione's blood from the case and began preparing them for his testing.

"I took her to the place where the lay lines intersected, Doc; fed her the radioactive isotopic dye in a bottle of water; took a picture, and in it, she glowed like a star— just as the other magical creatures that we've tested have done. I have the picture with me. Maybe you can help me make some sense of a part of it."

The filth dug into the black case and retrieved a muggle camera from its depths—the very same he had used that afternoon when he took Hermione's picture against her will. After toying with the buttons on the thing, making the photographic lens contract and dilate, he held it up for Doc to see, and Lucius moved to look over his shoulder as he peered down at the screen.

And yes, there was Hermione, glowing with a golden nimbus of light—as if from within—and there was Lucius's hand holding hers, invisible but still a clear outline—almost as if in the negative space surrounding it.

"Well, there truly are more things in Heaven and Earth it seems…" the muggle in the lab coat muttered. "You think this is a ghost?"

The filth narrowed his eyes, "I don't know what it is, nor do I much care. She was acting erratically after our visit to those lay lines, and if this…thing…this entity has something to do with it, then I don't want anything to come between us and the plan. That's why I had to sedate her."

The muggle Doc nodded as he continued to study the unmoving photograph on the device. Eventually, he whistled through his teeth. "Jiminy Crickets, does this change things. It's all well and good to postulate, but…damn, the little girl's lit up like a candle stick. And it's the isotope in the water you gave her mixed with the magic of the place that did it… it's enough so that it was actually caught on film, and now we have proof positive the gene for magic exists within humans. Incredible!"

_Was such a thing even possible?_ Lucius wondered as he continued to examine the unmoving picture. Genes…genetics…he remembered Hermione's brief lecture on genetics and human DNA. It was a muggle concept, surely. For one was either magical or not; the magic was intrinsic to the wizard. But listening to these muggles and their conversation, Lucius had cause to rethink this stance on muggle genetics. He wasn't sure about their experimentation—the steps they had gone through to get to this point seemed convoluted.

But if now, apparently, muggles could spot one of his own kind through the use of this genetic technology of theirs… well, the consequences of this were startling. After all, the wizarding world had only survived over the years due to a strict code of secrecy. One had only to recall the burning times of the seventeenth century to see how much this new muggle knowledge could change things.

And the photographic evidence was right there in front of them.

The muggle filth gave the Doc a sidelong glance. "It kind of hardens your resolve about the project, doesn't it, Doc?"

Placing the camera down carefully on the lacquered countertop, the bespectacled muggle rubbed the back of his neck. "I still don't see why we can't keep the gene active while we study it, Mic. After all, there are so many mysteries left to explore. I mean, we've captured and released an honest-to-goodness unicorn, caught on film some kind of elvin creature that we sure as hell can't see but glows brilliant-hued through a photographic lens, not to mention all of those magical creatures we've discovered, analyzed, and tested based on those lay lines, and now, would you just look at that mysterious hand—"

"You know why!" The muggle filth exploded. "Hell, did the events of a decade ago teach you nothing? Oh, that's right!" His pond scum eyes narrowed. "You weren't there, Grieg. You don't know what it was like."

The muggle shook his head. "Of course, I don't. But at the same time, I don't see why we can't continue to understand it, Mic. Why do they, all of them, need to be… _normalized_."

"Grieg. We are leveling the playing field, that's all. These people are an abomination of nature: their powers unnatural. And we have nothing that can combat them. In a war of escalation, they are light-years ahead of us. We can't engineer the magical gene to work for us; it's impossible, but we _can_ prevent it from activating in them. And once the serum is tested, we will begin dispensing the cure, and then the gene for magic will erode away into nothingness—never to be passed on or genetically gifted in any way. All thanks to these little vials of blood." The muggle filth drew one out of the black case and waggled it with his fingers.

Lucius's mouth dropped open in shock. _They could do that?! They could bloody well do that?! __**AS MUGGLES?!**_

Doc shook his head. "We are performing an ethnic cleansing. It's not right; it makes us just as bad as the Nazis in Germany." Lucius studied the muggle Doc carefully; he was looking distinctly uncomfortable with the idea of wizard kind's extinction. He knew about the muggle Hitler's campaign across Europe and muggle World War II. Hermione had likened it enough over the years to the persecution of first muggleborns and then of Slytherins for Lucius to get the general idea, and he found it a fair analogy. His respect for the muggle Doc grew slightly. Perhaps he would not kill Doc as he was planning to kill the filth.

Perhaps he would let him live; mentally crippled of course, but he would let him live.

Carefully placing the vial of Hermione's blood on the countertop, the muggle filth turned and clasped Doc by the shoulders and squeezed as he stared him down, "Grieg. I never want to go through again what I went through ten years ago in Britain. It seemed a pall of misery was cast over the entire damn country. My squadron decimated—shot down with flashes of green and red light that no amount of body armor could shield against, and with absolutely no explanation whatsoever as to why my brothers—_my brothers, Grieg_—died. Some of them were cursed beyond all recognition, not even their dental records could identify them!

"One of those dementor-things attached itself to me; followed me home that night, and proceeded to feed from my wife, drawing from her life-force… for months! I didn't know until it was too late. After all, we can't see them! She was so depressed, so despondent because of that _thing_… nothing helped: medication, light therapy, hell, we even tried electric shock therapy!

"Do you understand what it is like to have the woman that you love more than life itself turn into a husk of herself over a period of weeks? Margerie was bright and vivacious, happy and taking pleasure in her life, and then I had to watch her slow descent into madness as that thing leeched the happiness, the joy from her. And I couldn't see what was eating her—what was leeching off her! Do you understand?!" Spit flew in Doc's face as the muggle filth shook him. "My wife committed suicide, Grieg!"

With a jerk, the filth let go and abruptly turned around, drawing a ragged breath. Lucius moved around the room until he could see his face.

He heard the filth state quietly, "I was never home towards the end of that year; I was never home because the squadron I was in was responding to magical attacks in urbanite settings. Of course, the bridge collapse, the civilian assaults, the damned dementor swarms were covered up in the press and reported as acts of suspected terrorism to the unsuspecting public, but my brothers and I knew the truth.

"As MI6, we were one of the few authorized norms in Britain that were briefed and cleared to respond to attacks of wizards on civilians. And there was fuck all we could do for them, Grieg. It was like responding to a five alarm fire with water pistols.

"A week before the Magical World celebrated the victory of that boy wizard overcoming the Dark Wizard Voldemort, Margerie took our two year old daughter in our Volvo and did a header off the Elizabeth bridge into the Thames."

Head bowed, shoulders stooped, the muggle placed his hands on the countertop, and said quietly, "So, perhaps you understand now, Grieg? I have no sympathy for these people; they use their power irresponsibly, destructively, and must be stopped at all cost. Make no mistake. I do not want to kill them. I just… I want to make it so they are as normal, as _natural_ as everyone else. And if 'Brightest Witch of Her Age' Hermione Granger is the gateway to this becoming the case, well then, I say so be it."

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_**A/N:**_ Will be updating again soon, dear readers… keep watch.

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	20. …and of Cauldrons

Chapter 20— …and of Cauldrons

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Severus needed to get her back to the forest.

If he was able to get Hermione to the wellspring, then he could work on perfecting his magical resonance with the place, and the muggle bastard would no longer know her whereabouts. And then once Lucius returned, and they had more information, the three of them could formulate a plan of assault.

But first things first.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Severus bent close to her mouth, and breathing out, entered her dreams. Immediately, he had to close his eyes against the torrent of images overwhelming him. Euphoria, panic, lethargy—all of them assailed him, and they weren't his.

They were hers.

The muggle medication running through her veins was making her thoughts muddled and sluggish, but her emotions were _en pointe_ and they were all over the place. If he let himself, he could feed from these thoughts, these emotions and be just as drugged—as 'high'— as she.

Setting his occlumency shields firmly against them, he opened his eyes to the onslaught and tried to make headway amidst them.

Light and color were swirling past him in rapid-fire bursts. He steeled himself against the euphoric tingle that told him to remain calm, remain sedate. It was the drug, it was not _her_. He needed to find her!

After a while, he realized it was truly a Sisyphean task he was undertaking.

Like a genie out of a bottle, it was impossible to try and isolate her from the thoughts and emotions she was experiencing. She was scatter-brained—literally—her mind going in so many directions at once, he couldn't make any advance.

But this was Severus's dream as well as hers… _his realm_. The place where he could rule in her thoughts, and here in this place, his will _could_ be just as strong as her own—his kingdom as great.

He visualized a steaming cauldron, bubbling and frothing, churning, and he began to pour and direct the images he saw, the emotions that she was experiencing into that cauldron. He poured it all as a thick sludge, a soupy rivulet, a flowing stream, and then, finally, as steam reversing the process, filling the cauldron full instead of emptying it.

He was providing a guided meditation—an extremely effective one—for it was getting rid of the junk, the crap, the thoughts and emotions the medication was feeding that were keeping her held a prisoner in her hotel room. Through it all, he remained calm and in control; he did not give in to the feelings of euphoria and lethargy that wanted to break through his occlumency shield. He provided clear, exact focus for her as he had done countless times for himself when in the infirmary under Madam Pomfrey's care.

Severus Snape knew how to remain in control.

And he was going to show her how to as well.

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Hermione felt ill, her thoughts a confusing mesh of urgency and sluggishness. There was someplace she needed to be, somewhere she needed to go, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out where that place was or why she felt the need to be there.

She just wanted to close her eyes, quit fighting, shut out the world, and sleep.

"Good evening, Ms. Granger."

Wearily, she looked up into the dark eyes of Severus. She spoke as if from very far away. "What are you doing here?" Her voice sounded slurred, drunken.

Gods! How embarrassing! To be drunk in front of her old professor. _Focus, Hermione!_ Severus always required her _exact_ focus. "What are you doing?" Again, her voice sounded distant, fuzzy.

As per his usual, Severus was standing beside a steaming cauldron, but she had to shake her head to clear it and look closer. Was the vapor travelling _into_ it, not out from it?

She drew closer to him, her eyes focused on the cauldron—yes, the vapor was traveling in reverse.

"I'm providing a solution for clarification. Tell me, Ms. Granger, what would you put into this cauldron to clear your mind if you could? What thoughts are muddling you the most?"

Hermione tried to draw closer to him, but she felt wave after wave of lethargy sweeping over her, trying to rip her away.

"FOCUS, GIRL!"

Her eyes shot open, and suddenly she was standing right beside him looking up at him. "If you want me to treat you as a student, I will. What thoughts are traipsing around in that know-it-all head of yours, keeping you from staying on task? This is not difficult, Miss Granger. Not at all. Or are you too stupid, too ineffectual, too dunderheaded to see the truth? Look at me when I'm speaking, Miss Granger, _NOW_!"

Her eyes connected with his. He nodded. "Good. _Eyes on me._ What thoughts are keeping you from taking the next step?"

She gulped. "What's the next step?"

He grasped her by the shoulders. "To find your wand and apparate to the forest wellspring you were in this afternoon. Do you recall the forest wellspring—the nexus of power?" Hermione looked down at the cauldron for a second, the steam continuing to pour into it.

"EYES ON ME, MISS GRANGER!"

She jumped, her eyes returning guiltily to his. He nodded. "Stay focused on me."

"That—that's the problem, sir…my focus…I can't focus." Gods, but she was tired!

"Why?" His tone sounded impatient.

She shook her head, the waves of euphoria and lethargy were returning. She felt him grasp her by the chin and roughly pull until her eyes were once more connected to his. Hers were swimming, just as her thoughts were swimming.

"Why, what?" she asked, again, her voice sounding, if even more dulled.

"Why can't you focus, girl?"

"Because I'm tired. I just want to sleep."

For a moment—an instant—she saw his eyes soften as he looked down on her, but then he was her implacable professor once more, his jaw grit, his eyes hard, his manner brusque.

"You know you can't! You feel the sense of urgency to return to wakefulness. I know you feel it. I feel it through you as well. You must fight the lethargy you feel. FIGHT IT!" He shook her shoulders, and her eyes widened once more. "Fight it, Hermione. You must fight it. You must wake up, grab your wand, and apparate to the forest. You can do this, witch. I know you can. FIGHT IT!"

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"FIGHT IT!" Severus repeated. He repeated his instructions until he was mentally hoarse, until her eyes and head were swimming with _him_. Until he made her repeat the words back to him—over and over—in a liturgic chant.

And timing it in between waves of the medication, Severus Snape did something he never would dream of doing to her waking self.

He slapped her—HARD!

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_**A/N:**_ ooh, girl! WAKE UP!

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	21. The Flagship

Ch. 21— The Flagship

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Hermione woke on a gasp, jackknifing up in bed.

Her entire body quivering, she looked down and blinked.

… ….a_ needle._ There was a needle taped to the back of her hand. Seeing double, her eyes slowly tracked the clear piece of tubing as it ran the length of her arm up behind her, and she saw that it was connecting her to a medicinal drip attached to the headboard.

She was being… …drugged through a needle…in her arm.

_Gods! _She felt the sluggishness of the drug as it hit her system.

Wincing, she doggedly ripped the needle and tubing from her hand, and gained her feet, almost toppling over into the nightstand.

_The nightstand… …her wand._ The thought came out of nowhere. She had to get to her wand—the world tilted and spun.

It was so hard to move, to think!

_Don't think, just do. _She said this to herself as she opened the nightstand drawer and groping blindly, found her wand.

_Don't think, just do. _She pulled it out, and holding it up to her eyes, blinked at it owlishly until it came into focus. Gods! What's next? What came next?

Her wand… and then apparate.

_She had to apparate._

She felt the urgency of the thought come out of nowhere upon her, piercing the sluggishness she felt. She had to fight the effects of the drugs and apparate. _But why?! _Why did she even need to apparate? She was in no condition to do so… …she'd splinch herself for sure.

SHE HAD TO! Some inner thought, some inner voice prompted her, seeming to guide her along.

She had to apparate…but where?!

…a picture of the forest from this afternoon appeared with startling clarity amidst her drugged thoughts_. To the forest. _That was right. She had to get to the magical wellspring in the forest.

_SHE HAD TO! _

Gathering herself, she forced her mind to focus. _Focus, Hermione!_

She could apparate to the forest. She could do it!

Shaking her head to clear it slightly, Hermione pictured the forest wellspring in her mind as plainly as she was able, and clutching her wand tightly to her, Apparated away with a LOUD CRACK!

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She stumbled, almost falling to the forest floor, but for arms—strong, invisible arms—that caught her.

They gathered her close as she panted, breathing as if she'd run a mile, her muscles quivering from fatigue. She was clutched against a solid chest and her cheek was pressed against whoever held her, but she could not see the man to know.

_This wasn't right_. _There was something wrong with this_, she thought vaguely.

But even so, she felt herself beginning to relax, the arms around her held her tight, keeping her upright as hands began rubbing up and down her back in a soothing cadence. And she nestled into the non-existent chest that held her, burying her face into the _robes?!_

She knew those robes!

Her thoughts were a muddled mess as the remains of the drug coursed its way through her system, but she retained the presence of mind to reach up and feel the face of the man that held her so firmly to him.

Immediately, his hand cradled hers as he held it pressed to his cheek. And she felt around as someone blind would 'read' a face: his thin, angular chin; his high, furrow-lined brow; a nose that was just a bit beaky…

..._Severus?_

She must have spoken his name aloud because she felt him nod, and then he was walking her gently back to the trunk of a gnarled tree and urging her to sit. And she did so, her back propped against it, closing her eyes and trying to shake away the fatigue she felt.

Gods, but she had done it! She had done what she needed to do.

And now, she could rest.

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His heart in his throat, Severus watched the girl close her eyes and lean her head back against the tree. Gods, but she was so strong! So very strong to overcome all that she had! He had encouraged her as best he could, offered as much prompting, as much comfort as he could while she had stumbled and fought in that thrice-damned hotel room for her freedom.

She was asleep within moments propped against the tree: a deep, restful sleep that did not include dreams.

And for the first time that week, Severus Snape was thankful for that for he needed to concentrate.

This afternoon, he had been so close—so very close!—to finding the particular energy resonance of the place. But then Lucius had returned with her, and her questions begun, and then they were leaving the wellspring…

He had needed more time!

And now, he had it. And he knew exactly what he needed to do.

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Lucius needed to get back to them!

This was ever so much worse than anything Severus or he imagined. He didn't know much about muggle science, and what he did know was mostly due to Hermione's own tutelage and research, but he _did_ understand the general idea of genetics enough to know that what these two muggles were talking about could spell ruin for the magical world.

Something on the muggle filth's cellular device started beeping, and Lucius moved in for a closer look as the filth cursed. "Fuck! Grieg! We have a problem. Get the Commandant!"

The muggle in the white lab coat quickly yanked a large red telephone with a curling cord off the wall and spoke hurriedly into its receiver. A moment later, there was buzzing on the filth's cellular device. He answered the summons immediately.

"She's at the lay lines; I don't know how."

_Severus had succeeded. _Lucius thought in relief, but quickly on its heels came dismay. _The muggle filth knew it! How? How could he have known?!_

"I gave her enough sedative to down a small elephant, but the GPS tracking tag I placed in her pocket has her there instead of at the hotel."

Stepping closer to the cellular until he could hear what was being said on the other end, Lucius listened as the now-familiar voice of the Commandant spoke, "Well, what does she know? Does she know anything about the project?"

The filth ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it. "Only that I know she's a witch, and now she knows I'm out to get her."

The Commandant sighed. "So we let her go and fish for another… …perhaps one less notabl—"

"NO!" The filth roared into the cellular device. "I have spent ten years! Ten years of my life devoted to discovering the genetic coding for magic, designing the serum, and entrapping _her_. And I'm not going to let some happenstance fluke ruin that!"

"You stand down Fortenbrass, and that's an order!" The Commandant bellowed. "This is much more than happenstance, son. The girl is dangerous, and she now knows you're not to be trusted. We've blown our shot. It's time to call a halt to the project at least for the time being."

The muggle filth drew a deep breath, and Lucius could see he was preparing to argue. "Respectfully, sir. Our plan can still work. We have the serum, and it's almost complete. We only need one final test to see if it will work on her blood, and then, all we need to do is be in close enough proximity to shoot a dart into her shoulder or thigh. And just like that, no more magic."

"The serum isn't ready yet." Doc spoke loudly from behind the muggle filth. "I need a couple of hours at least. And even then, it will be a slapdash affair. It's best for us to cut our losses, Mic, and find anoth—"

"Not an option," He ground through clenched teeth. "It _has_ to be her. She is the one, the flagship. If we can convert her, then others of her kind might come willingly. They might even see it as the right thing to do… like signing a contract against the use of nuclearized weapons for warfare. Compare it to the Geneva Convention if you'd like, but Hermione Granger is a hero of the wizarding world. If we have her as our model, then our cause will be endorsed and could even be approved by them."

"And if they don't willingly surrender their magic, soldier? We'll have us a goddamned World War III, wizard-style, and that's not a fight I want to fight, son. Not at all." Lucius heard the Commandant give a deep sigh. "It was a good idea, _still_ is a good idea, but it's in its infancy, and I'm very much afraid we've just tipped our hand."

_Oh, but you have no idea_, thought Lucius as he watched the muggle filth's face, reading him carefully as to know his next move.

"I understand, sir. Completely," said the filth. Lucius spotted a tightness in his jaw, a slight shaking to the negative of his head. Reading him for deception, Lucius could tell he was lying; he was not ready to give in yet— he was still, in fact, committed his course.

"I'm truly sorry, son," the Commandant said, "I know how much this meant to you, and how much that girl has come to mean to you. In everything but looks, the resemblance between her and your Margerie was uncanny, but you can't let that cloud your judgment, soldier. You've got to let it go—let _her_ go. I want you to stand down, abort the project, and wait at base for your next assignment."

The muggle filth's fists tightened, his jaw hardened in resolve as he said tightly, "Yes, sir. I will abort. You have my word."

_Ah, but the word of one such as you isn't worth Leprechaun Gold_, Lucius opined to the room at large. Too bad none could hear him.

"Good, then. You'll receive your next assignment at zero-eight-hundred."

"Yes, sir."

Pressing a button on the device, the filth lowered it from his ear and studied Doc Grieg inquisitively, taking his measure. The filth smiled, and Lucius could see the predatory gleam in it. "Y'know, Grieg, it's a shame for the blood samples I took to go to waste; have you had time to analyze them yet, Doc?"

Doc warmed to the filth's charm, becoming part of his element in the scientific lab and going back over to the equipment where the vials of Hermione's essence swirled and spun using centrifugal force. "You know, I only just separated them into their constituents. It's a shame too, to never know if the serum would work on her or not, but—" the bespectacled muggle shrugged as if to say, '_such is life_'.

"We still could, you know? See if it would work… C'mon Grieg. Commandant Lewis didn't say _you_ had to abort the project, and only you and I would know." And Lucius could spot the muggle filth's manipulative ploy from a mile away.

"Well—" the muggle Doc looked hesitant, his eyes cutting to the still-spinning vials, a look of yearning in them.

The filth's pond scum eyes pleaded with Doc's. "—and it would set my mind at ease to know we, at least, had some kind of basic defense against them should something like what happened ten years ago to me and my family happen again."

"I—" the muggle nodded his head. "Alright, Mic. But this goes no farther than the two of us."

The muggle filth's eyes met those of the Doc as he said, "Grieg, you have my word."

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Lucius ran.

He ran as if the hounds of hell were chasing after him and then twice as fast.

The muggle filth had driven them back to the hotel at a break-neck pace, and that was after he had—but no, that was unimportant now. What was important was getting to Hermione. _He had to get to Hermione first! _

Dressed all in black, practically one of the shadows, the muggle filth had some kind of device over his eyes that enabled him to seek and sense heat. And it was this device that was allowing him to walk the forested path with quiet, sure footsteps.

Lucius, meanwhile, was running ahead, using memory and the practically non-existent moonlight that filtered through the 'Green Tunnel' of foliage to the forest floor in order to keep to the path. If he hadn't have been able to run _through_ roots and branches, he would surely be black, bloodied, and blue by now. But then, of course, he'd have his thrice-damned wand with him and absolutely none of this sordid business would be happening!

_Gods!_

He ran harder.

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Concentrating on exactly what he wanted to do, Severus forced his mind clear of all other thoughts. His focus was clear—he wanted to speak to her. The rhythm of the place was beneath him, humming into and through him. He could feel it resonating within becoming part of him, and he becoming part of it. The energy of the wellspring trickled through him in a small stream, then a rushing river, and then sweeping over him in a tide, almost bursting the dam he had constructed to funnel it… almost.

But he controlled it, years of honed discipline enabled him to do so, setting his mind at ease with the rhythm of the place, tuning his magical energy to match it, amplify it …resonate with it.

His intention clear, Severus spoke.

"Ms. Granger?" He walked over to her and shook her gently on the shoulder. Starting slightly, she awakened and blinked up at him uncomprehending. Of course, he was still invisible, but that hardly mattered. The question remained, could she _hear_ him?

"Ms. Granger—Hermione? Can you hear me?" He crouched down until his eyes were on level with hers and put a hand under her chin, drawing it up to the wan moonlight that filtered through the trees as he examined her. Her pupils had returned to approximate their normal size which meant that the drug in her system had almost fully run its course.

She nodded dazedly. "Severus. Yes, I can…only just…it sounds as though you are very far away."

He touched her shoulder. "I'm right here beside you. It's an unusual state of circumstances in which Lucius and I find ourselves, but I am right here beside you."

She looked down at the non-existent hand clutching her shoulder and then back approximate to where his head would be. Biting her lip, she asked him, "I hope you don't mind me asking this, but why did you deny my recent request of funding for experimentation?"

Severus smiled softly at her, even if she couldn't see it, and he had to stop himself from reaching up and caressing her cheek. He said sternly, "Because you did not follow proper protocol in collecting your research."

Closing her eyes and resting her head back against the trunk of the tree, she nodded. "And Lucius?"

"With the muggle bast—_Michael_… he went with _Michael_ after the muggle rendered you insensate and drew your blood for testing… …to use for a serum of some kind. Do you know anything about this, Ms. Granger? Can you tell me anything about it?"

Severus watched as she slowly reached up and felt the puffy, swollen area along her cheek where the bastard Mic had slapped her. Her hand lowered to her lap as she shook her head. "No, I—we only corresponded through research. The project I was working on years ago dealing with nanotechnology, do you remember? I was having such trouble with molecular transfiguration replication, and I read a paper of his dealing with technology of the future.

"We only physically met four months ago, but we've been corresponding via email and vidchat for years. I—Gods!" she scrubbed at her face tiredly. "His own work is in molecular chemistry, specifically the human genome. It was his body of work that led me to the breakthrough treatment and recovery of Neville's parents, and his research is the cornerstone of what I hope will eventually give the squibs back their magic."

"And in all this time, you never once suspected that he knew you were a witch?" Severus asked quietly.

"I—"She bit her lip and smiled sadly. "Only of the metaphorical kind, Severus. I was very careful. He knew the privacy clauses I was under precluded any discussion of my work outside the company seat, and I thought he was contented with that." Her tone was self-recriminating, and Severus watched as her hands balled up into fists, her jaw and thoughts turning inward. He didn't need legilimency to see where she was going with this.

His little witch was every bit a masochist at times as he could be.

Gently, he took her hands in his and forced her balled fists to relax. "Hermione," he began, "the bast—_Michael _is a manipulator of the first water, and is almost as gifted with charm and exploitation as the Dark Lord. There was no way, unless you had been a skilled legilimens and trained in the art of deception that you could have known what he was doing to you. He knew you well—_very well_—and I have my suspicions that he has been studying you for some time, perhaps even _before_ you began your correspondence."

Her face lost its color, and she withdrew her hands from his hold. She cried, "Dear Gods! What have I done?"

And Severus watched as she buried her head in her hands and wept.

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Helpless.

Severus was utterly helpless in the face of her distress.

Anyone else he knew what to do, how to resolve this: either shut them up or send them bawling away from him.

_But not her. _Not ever again.

Hermione had made a point to never cry in front of him. Over the years, the most she had ever given him was bleary-eyed scorn, putting him in his place but neatly with cutting words and even sometimes cutting hexes.

The witch before him continued to cry un-consoled, her tears more poignant because she was so disturbingly quiet over the whole affair. Gods! Where was Lucius?!

Lucius could comfort her. He knew exactly what to do in these types of situations.

But him?

Moving from his crouched position to a seated one beside her against the trunk of the tree, he reached out, and hoisting her, drew her up until she was in his lap, her small, quaking body draped across his knees as she continued to silently weep into her hands.

Words of consolation, nonsense words?

Should he try nonsense words? Did he know any?! "There… …there… Hermione. There …there." Oh, but the words sounded pat, and it seemed only to make the girl cry harder! He drew her closer into his arms so that she was leaning against his chest and began rocking them both slightly. "You are safe now. The bastar—_the muggle_ has no way of knowing where you went. And I am with you, my girl. Hush."

Her wracking sobs lessened as she nodded, listening to his words. Eventually, she relaxed the slightest bit into his embrace, un-balling herself a little and leaning more against him. Her breathing grew less jagged. And then she was looking up at him…or at least at the place where she thought him to be, and he felt his heart constrict when he noticed her eyes and nose were runny.

"Wh-what of L-Lucius? H-how will he find us?" Her voice sounded uncertain, her eyes lost as she tried and failed to see him in the darkness. Gods! How Severus hated this disembodied existence!

Taking the sleeve of his robes, he dabbed at the runny mess on her face as he stated, "He knew I was trying to return us to the wellspring; he'll make his way back here as soon as he can, and then we shall decide what to do from there."

Swallowing thickly, she nodded, her tears lessened and then ceased altogether as she put her head back against his chest and breathed deeply. Severus continued to hold her cradled in his invisible lap as her breathing returned to normal.

He made a study of her, beginning with the crown of her head: her formerly neat braid was now haggard and coming unbound, her eyes were now red-rimmed and puffy, her cheek was swollen and bruised where the bastard had hit her, and her clothes were soiled and wrinkled from the events earlier in the day.

But even for all of that, she was ever lovely. She looked up at where she thought him to be as he continued in his perusal, and he saw her eyes narrowing in curiosity, and Severus knew that the next question she asked was going to be one that he dreaded.

"Why can't I see you? You're not under an invisibility cloak, and it's not a disillusionment charm…."

Severus grit his jaw and answered tightly. "No, Ms. Granger. It's not."

His words seemed to recall them both to the intimacy of the moment. In the moon-dappled darkness, he saw her cheeks tinge pink as she realized she was being cradled by and comforted by him. Her body immediately stiffened against his, her awareness returning.

This was no dream, and she was fully conscious of how inappropriate their actions were. Severus had to stop himself from holding tighter to her as she made to disentangle herself from his lap and his hold.

He forced himself to accept it.

This was reality. The girl was not besotted with him in actuality as she was in her dreams. They had made love, but it was an unremembered fabrication on her part…just a figment of her imagination.

And although he was certain some part of her did remember—for how else would she have let him comfort her otherwise?— this was not a dream, and he needed to remember that.

She moved until she was to the side of him, still able to brush against and feel his robes, but no longer touching him in any significant way, and Severus forced himself to acknowledge and then dispose of his disappointment.

Drawing her wand, she felt around with her other hand until she encountered his bicep, and then she performed a 'finite incantatem' which, of course, had no effect.

She ran a diagnostic spell, and wrinkled her brow when she could find nothing to tell her just what spell he was under.

"Ms. Granger…" Severus began, uncertain of how he was going to continue, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lucius tripping over tree roots and branches as he ran pell-mell down the ravine to the forest floor where the two of them sat, almost falling flat on his face as he stumbled gracelessly before them.

"What was that?!" Hermione yelped, her eyes widening at the noise of cracked tree limbs, and then she didn't even have time to scream as Lucius hoisted her from the forest floor, and clapping an invisible hand to her mouth to silence her screaming, proceeded to dig into the back pocket of her jeans until he found the silver button-like mechanism the bastard prick had placed there earlier that night.

Severus closed his eyes, his jaw grit tight.

_The tag. _

He had forgotten the muggle tag! In all the confusion: in her drugged sleep, getting her to this place, and his discovery of magical resonance… he had forgotten the small button-like device.

Lucius gasped as he held her against his chest. "You can… talk to her… right?"

Hermione was scared to death, her eyes wide as saucers

"Yes, I can talk to her," Severus said aloud for Hermione's benefit, gaining his feet to stand before them.

"Tell her it's… me." Lucius panted. "And this is some… kind of… tracking device, Severus. He's known… where she's been… for hours. He's…coming."

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_**A/N:**_ If you like what you've read, tap that little button at the bottom of the page, and tell this authoress what you think. ;D

Please note, if you do choose to leave an anon. review, I cannot reply back to it (and I dearly love replying back, dear readers!)

Another update in the works soon. Keep watch!

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	22. Sticks and Stones

Ch. 22— Sticks and Stones

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"Hermione, it's Lucius." Severus explained as he rose to stand before her. Lucius held up the button-like device in front of her eyes, and Severus asked her, "Do you know what this is? What it does? Lucius says it can track you in some way. That our position here is compromised."

She took the tag from Lucius's non-existent hand, and whispering 'Lumos', quickly examined it.

"Put your wand light out, girl!" Severus snapped. Gods! Did she not have any sense?

She quickly did so, but not before ascertaining, "Yes, it's a GPS sensor, and yes, Michael can track me."

Severus watched her draw her wand, her eyes narrowing, and he stopped her before she could destroy it. "Do not destroy it! Send it winging, instead, Ms. Granger"

She nodded, and casting a _ventus_ jinx, let the tag fly to be carried off on the wind.

Lucius shook his head at Severus. "It won't do any good, Severus. He knows. The filth knows she's here at the wellspring. She needs to leave—now! He's got the serum, it will destroy her magic. That's what it does. I don't want her anywhere near it! She needs to apparate _now_!"

"Would one of you please talk to me?!"

In the dappled moonlight, both Lucius and Severus looked down to find Hermione between them with her arms crossed and a distinctly worried expression on her face.

"Lucius cannot speak to you, Ms. Granger. Only I can. And he's telling me that you need to apparate away from here right now this very moment."

Her eyebrows rose. "Oh, is he now?" She clutched her wand more tightly to her, and Severus saw her chin set in a defiant angle that always indicated an argument forthcoming.

He tried to head it off at the pass. "Yes, the two of us agree that you need to leave and leave now! We can explain the whyfores later, girl... after we return to our corporeal selves. We just need you to go anywhere else but here. Just know that right now, we are the only ones that seem to have a full grasp of the situation."

He heard Lucius hiss. "Severus…"

Her eyes narrowed, and that chin—oh, that stubborn chin!—protruded, and Severus knew he had bungled it, and she was going to continue to fight him. "A full grasp of the situation?! Oh, that's rich! You can't even grasp your wands! Or if you can, you can't use them. _Right? _Am I right?!"

She placed her hands on her hips. "Like hell, Severus Snape, if you think I'm going to leave here without confronting that bastard!" She pointed her finger up to where she thought he was… unfortunately, he was standing to the other side of her. "Just try and make me leave."

"Severus, the muggle was right behind me!" Lucius pleaded. "She needs to apparate—_NOW!_"

Drawing a breath for patience, Severus tried once more to reason with the witch. "We can discuss this later Ms. Granger, when you're safely out of harm's way. You don't know the danger you'r—"

Making a mad grab for Hermione, Lucius flung them both to the forest floor right as a projectile whizzed through where she had been standing moments before. Severus watched as Lucius looked to where the projectile had come, and said for his benefit alone. "TELL HER TO APPARATE NOW!"

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Hermione was pinned beneath Lucius's weight, and he was almost crushing her.

"Now just who are you talking to, Sweets?" Michael asked, his voice sounding like it was coming from some distance away. Lucius rolled them as she felt another projectile fly past her head, and Hermione realized they weren't bullets but yellow-tipped darts.

"Lucius," Hermione whispered, "I need my wand!" He quickly removed himself from her and helped her to a slight crouch, shielding her as best he could.

Her wand had rolled off somewhere when she'd hit the ground, and Hermione cursed herself. In the almost absolute darkness, she would be lucky if she found it in time. She began feeling around the area with her hands, finding sticks of all kinds, but not _her_ stick.

Severus crouched down and whispered in her ear, "He's in a tree a few meters to your back. He's dressed in black with some kind of device over his eyes…probably to be able to see you in some way. Lucius cannot get to him. He's out of range of the wellspring's effects. _We_ cannot touch him."

"My wand!" Hermione whispered frantically to them. "I've lost my wand!"

Both Lucius and Severus shoved her as Hermione felt another projectile whizz next to where her shoulder had been.

And then there was a light on her, a small pinpoint of red light, right near her upper left shoulder. "Honestly, Sweets, it's like shooting fish in a barrel. I can make this painless, but you should know I have plenty of darts, and they are all of them loaded with the serum to suppress the gene for your magic for good." Michael's tone sounded less than sane, and Hermione gulped.

Was that what the serum did? Was that what he had taken her blood to test?! It suppressed the gene for magic?

_Merlin!_

Her wand! She needed her wand! Her fingers itched for it. She was caught in the crosshairs of his gun, and she dared not move a muscle to search for her bloody wand.

Instead, she tried to distract him. "M-michael…why are you doing this?" A light, from an LED flashlight was clicked on, and suddenly she could see his face. She watched as he removed the thermal imaging scope he wore.

He did not lower, however, the dart gun he had aimed at her shoulder.

But he did look up from its scope as he said, "I'm doing this because it's the right thing to do, Hermione. God! You are so much like her! In every way that matters, you are so much like my Margerie." He smiled. "I like to think the two of you would have gotten along. She was a researcher as well—an oncologist specializing in the treatment and cure of Leukemia in children. And she was such a bright star in my night! _My guiding star_, Hermione. And talking with you all these years, and being with you these last few months, I had hoped… I had thought I could make you see that you didn't need magic, that we could work together, explore genetic research together, build a life together. After all, it's the small things in life, right Sweets?"

She gulped and nodded, willing to say anything to placate him. _Her magic! Dear gods, her magic was at stake!_ And he was wanting to take it from her. How could she convince him that it was the wrong thing to do? And why? Why was he wanting to do this?

Even as she watched, his jaw grew hard and his eyes narrowed until he was once more looking down the scope of his dart gun at her. "But you are not my wife. Y_ou are not her, Hermione_! You have a disease: a disease of power. And you know what they say about power, 'Brightest Witch of Her Age' Hermione Granger?"

He waited for her response.

Not daring to take her eyes from him for one second, she licked her lips and hazarded an unsure guess. "With great power comes great responsibility?"

His lips twitched. "No. But props for the Spiderman reference. They say that 'absolute power corrupts absolutely'…" he looked at her grimly, "and I'm here to remove the corruption—the cancer— from your genes. Now, this will only hurt for a second."

He shot as her wand was pressed into her hand.

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Hermione had but an instant to throw up a protection spell.

She gasped. The yellow-tipped dart made it within centimeters of her shoulder before stopping mid-air as if hitting an invisible shield. And she watched as its form crumbled away to dust.

'Lumos' she cast, and the perimeter of light around the wellspring increased substantially. She could now fully see Michael in front of her, the dart gun still aimed at her shoulder.

With a flick of her wrist, the gun was ripped from his hands and very carefully placed on the ground beside her.

One of them—Severus or Lucius, she couldn't be sure—crouched down to examine it, and she watched from her periphery as the gun was intangibly disarmed and unloaded. The darts disappeared one right after another into invisibility. Hermione could only presume that it was Severus that was carefully wrapping each of the serum-treated darts and placing them securely in one of the many pocketed folds of his robes for transport and analysis later.

Lucius came to stand beside her—she knew because of the gentle way he drew her close to him— lending her support as she faced Michael down.

She leveled her wand at him and asked lowly, "How long have you been planning this?"

Michael's voice was quiet, and almost but not quite, defeated when he answered, "For a very long time, Sweets."

"_Don't_ call me that!" she ground through clenched teeth. "Why? Why would you want to destroy an entire society, an entire civilization you know almost nothing about?"

Severus appeared at her side, and whispered in her ear, "Lucius says he will fill you in on the bastard's motivation later._ We both say_ you need to eliminate him. We would, of course, happily lend a hand, but he's still outside the boundary of the nexus's power, and we cannot touch him."

"Kill him?" She shook her head. "You want me to kill him? Oh, no. Killing would be far too good for the likes of him." Not taking her eyes off him for one moment, she snarled, "Besides, I still have so many unanswered questions."

"And curiosity will always win out over bloodshed." Michael smiled wryly at her from his position in the tree. "Whoever you're talking to surely doesn't know you half as well as I do if they honestly suggested you kill me." Keeping his eyes trained on hers, Michael slowly lowered himself from the tree onto the forest floor. "After all,_ killing_ is not a part of your nature, Hermione."

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Lucius watched as her wand hand shook with anger directed at the filth. He felt the emotion vibrating, humming through her as he held her to him. Gods! That was so very close! Had that serum pierced her, she would have been rendered a squib almost instantaneously. That's how it had worked in the muggle lab when the Doc had injected a bit of her blood with the serum and then studied it through his microscopic lens.

A thought occurred to him, and Lucius quickly took personal inventory of himself, and then of Severus.

_No darts. _

Neither of them had been hit with a dart. Gods! In this place, the two of them were tangible, able to touch things and be touched, and they could have gotten shot with the darts as well! He didn't know if the serum would have effected them or not, but the risk was still there. _Merlin_ _preserve us!_

He assessed Hermione's state: she was controlled, her color was high, and oh, but she was magnificent when she told the filth, "Don't move another step! Besides, you don't know who I am; you don't know my nature!"

The filth laughed and shook his head. "Don't I?" And he took another step towards her, his hands held high as if in surrender. Lucius's eyes met Severus's, and he watched as Severus began making his way stealthily towards him. If the muggle crept just a bit closer…

"I've made it my business these last few years to 'know your nature' as you've put it, Sweets, or did you think this week was all a charming bit of chance and guesswork on my part? I studied you, Hermione. I know your innermost longings as if they are my own." His jaw tightened, and he swallowed. "I care for you a great deal, and I'm telling you, you and I could have done great things together. We _still can_ accomplish such great things!"

The muggle moved until he was _just_ outside the perimeter of Severus's grasp. Literally one more step, and he could touch him, grab the black vest the filth wore and haul him in. As it was, Severus's reach would turn to nothingness.

Still holding Hermione, Lucius watched as Severus crouched and chose a large, pointed rock. If he had to, Lucius knew Severus would perform a coup de grâce on the filth to spare Hermione from having to do so herself.

Just one more step, Lucius prayed.

"At what cost, Michael?" Hermione's tone was full of grief, and Lucius drew her closer to him, giving her what comfort he could provide as she faced the blackguard down. "At what cost could we accomplish all of these 'great things'? Would you want me to take this serum of yours? Inject me so that I am no longer a witch, my magic—an intrinsic part of who I am—lost forever? And you _dare_ to call this caring for me?"

The filth cocked his head to the side, and said, "Let me ask you, Sweets. How much did you miss your magic this week, anyway? I mean, really, how often did you long for your wand? You were raised the first ten years of your life without it, Hermione. And any psychologist can tell you how crucial, how critical the first ten years of life are to developmental thought and habitual behavior patterns. So, I ask you, just how 'intrinsic' is this magic of yours?"

He continued, "What's it the magical world calls normal people…'muggles' isn't it?" He smiled wryly. "Tell me something, Sweets...just a little thought experiment for old time's sake: let's say for instance, when you find it difficult to open a jar of pickles, do you find something with which to strike the jar first and therefore pry loose the lid, or do you automatically reach for your wand to do it for you?"

Lucius felt Hermione stiffen in his hold, and he looked down at her. The muggle filth was talking nonsense. Of course she would use her wand; it would be foolish to do it any other… But as he examined her, he realized she was utterly still save for the working of her throat. The muggle, it seemed, had scored a hit.

"_Exactly_." The filth grinned cockily, "What's the saying? You can take the witch away from muggles, but you can't take the _muggle_ out of the witch."

Incensed, Lucius said, "Severus, tell her that if she's not going to kill the filth, then she, at the very least, needs to restrain and gag him. The longer we wait, the more time he has to verbally fence and plot another way of attack. He's already disobeyed her direct order not to take another step while still calling her that damnable pet name of his, and now he's exploiting her emotions, looking for a way in… a vulnerability. We cannot help her outside the nexus. She needs to understand this."

Severus nodded, but maintained his silence.

He was within inches of being able to reach out and haul the filth in, and Lucius knew he did not want to give his position away by breaking his silence to relay Lucius's words. Severus palmed the rock he held with the sleeves of his robes so that only the faintest tip could be discerned by Hermione and the muggle filth should they notice it floating mid-air.

Neither of them, however, seemed to be paying a bit of attention as both kept their eyes trained on one another.

Holding it aloft, Severus waited for the exact moment the filth would step close enough for him to administer a deathblow.

The muggle filth shook his head and smiled sadly. "I am simply illustrating, Sweets, that your magic is not second-nature to you. Your normal childhood shaped who you are, and it can't be unlearned."

"_Fine,_" she ground. "You've illustrated your point. For me and those born like me, it's true." She crossed her arms, her wand still trained on him. "But for those to whom magic _is_ second nature…what of them? What would you have them do if you dosed them with your serum and made them as you put it: 'normal'?"

Putting his hands in his back pockets, the filth rocked back on his heels, and Lucius rolled his eyes heavenward and cursed. "For Merlin's sake, Severus! We've got to put a stop to this!"

The filth continued to talk, "Well, naturally, there will be a time of adjustment for a generation, possibly two. Their respective governments will have to shelter and absorb the burden while these people learn marketable skills for today's economy. However, their children are the ones that will truly benefit the most."

Hermione laughed and shook her head. "Gods, you're delusional. Utterly mad! I've got to applaud you, Michael, for keeping your megalomania hidden from me for so long. Just how you did it, I would really like to know."

At her words, Lucius's eyes narrowed as a thought occurred to him.

He said hesitantly, "You know, Severus… killing him may not be the best course to take…. at least, not right away. The filth is our only link to determining how far this thing goes, and Hermione is going to have to perform _legilimens_ on him to find that out. Assuming, of course, she can perform the spell in the first—" Suddenly, there was a buffeting sound as if something was chopping at the air directly above them, and he and Severus glanced up at the trees suddenly alive with movement.

In a scathing tone, Hermione shouted above the chopping noise, "Is that what I think it is?"

The filth, if anything, looked more concerned by the noise than she.

Bright, white muggle lights suddenly surrounded them, flooding the forest floor where they stood, right as Hermione screamed '_Incarcerous'_ and cords from her wand flew towards the muggle, wrapping around him, and dragging him towards the three of them.

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_**A/N:**_ And the hits just keep on comin'!

Your authoress will probably post one more update before she takes leave for the long weekend here in the states. After all, I do think I've earned a bit of a respite… spoiling you as I have with my rapid-fire updates. ;D

Keep watch.

_**xxkattiaxx **_


	23. A Captive Audience

Ch. 23— A Captive Audience

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Soon they were surrounded.

Severus watched as several muggles, all dressed in black military fatigues and on lead ropes, were lowered to the ground.

A cultured British voice from an amplified speaker screamed above the roaring wind, "Hermione Granger, this is Commandant Lewis, retired of Her Majesty's Service. We don't want to harm you, Hermione. We just want you to surrender Michael Fortenbrass to us for questioning."

The voice continued above the buffeting din of what Severus could now see was a black helicopter, "Mr. Fortenbrass is wanted concerning the crimes committed earlier this evening of theft of property and the attempted murder of Dr. Edward Grieg. Release him, and we can all avoid a very unpleasant scene. Again, we do not want to harm you, Hermione. We only want Fortenbrass."

It seemed this had now turned into a hostage situation.

There were numerous points of red light trained on Hermione as she held the bastard restrained by wand point. And Severus watched as she quickly severed the ropes that bound him and froze them in place so he couldn't move from the spot in front of her. With her wand now free, she cast a protective shield around herself that was all but impenetrable to the muggles that surrounded them, and he was relieved to see the pinpoints of red light disappear from her person.

And then she began to cast protective wards expanding upon them more and more until they encompassed the area of the nexus, thereby forcing the muggles further and further back until they were outside the perimeter of the wellspring unable to look in.

Peering through the wards, Severus could see that the muggles were still out there, surrounding them, their numbers ever increasing as each minute passed. There were now far too many to _Confund_, and it would exhaust her to try.

But the muggles were neither able to see through, nor penetrate her wards to access _them_.

And that's what mattered.

Severus thought of the merits of just apparating away: the three of them, leaving this sordid mess for others—Ministry officials and the Aurors—to clear up. But then, Lucius and he wouldn't be able to communicate with her. Their sole link—thanks to the nexus—would be severed, and they would have to rely on the insubstantiality of her dreams in order to relay information to her.

And then, of course, there was the fact that Severus still had so much for which to pay the bastard back. He looked down at Hermione's cheek: swollen, puffy, and bruised. And upon noticing the track marks in both her arms, and the bruised vein on the back of her hand, Severus shook his head and secreted the rock he still held in one of his pockets.

No.

The three of them would see this thing through, and attempt to do so without involving the Ministry. _…somehow._

"I insist you have a seat," Hermione said to the bastard, and conjuring a straight-back chair, she gestured with her wand, and the bound muggle fell stiffly into it. With a flick of her wrist, the frozen bindings wrapped themselves around the chair and then anchored them to the gnarled roots of the forest floor, effectively securing him where he sat.

She conjured a comfortable wingback for herself and sat as well, crossing her arms in front of her and giving every appearance of having all the time in the world.

Severus heartily approved.

His eyes met Lucius's, and they moved to either side of her, letting her take lead on interrogating the bastard. After all, the Mic did not yet know of their existence, and Severus wanted to savor the moment when he finally did.

"Well, gentlemen, I'm waiting, if anyone would care to start."

"Oh, _I_ would." The bastard spoke up, grinning. "And just who, Sweets, are you addressing? For I only see your pretty self. Perhaps you'd care to enlighten me on who else is in this little space that you've secured for us, hmm?"

Lucius laughed, and shook his head.

It was fortunate that only Severus could hear it as the laugh would have set his former victim's blood to curdling in his previous Death Eater's days. Severus watched as Lucius walked casually over to the muggle, and making certain the Malfoy signet was out-faced properly, gave the bastard a backhanded slap across his face that sent his chair uprooting from its moorings and toppling over onto the forest floor.

Amused, Severus stood back and watched as Lucius walked to the crown of the chair, and looking down on him, kicked dirt in the bastard's face. "There, that's more akin to your true disposition, filth that you are."

"That's enough!" Hermione exclaimed.

"It will never be enough," Lucius stated calmly, straightening the cuff of his sleeve. But Hermione, of course, did not hear or see him, and with a wave of her wand, she set the bastard to rights once more to face her.

"Does anyone have anything_ productive_ to contribute?"

Severus walked until he was just behind the bastard and leaning down so that his mouth was on level with his ear spoke, "The Commandant is retired from Her Majesty's Service." The bastard jumped, his eyes widening in shock as Severus smirked. "This _could_ indicate a rather isolated incident. And if so, we might need not involve the Ministry at all. If we must involve them, then it would make for relatively nasty public relations between muggle and wizard kind."

Hermione nodded. "Agreed. I think it's time we discuss what we know." She bit her lip as she began ticking points off her fingers. "They know about magic, they have a genetically-modified serum to counteract it, and they are, at this moment, surrounding us."

Lucius spoke, and Severus passed along his words, "The muggle that helped design the serum—the one the Commandant called Dr. Grieg is as good as dead. The 'muggle filth', which is what Lucius calls the bastard by the way, attacked him upon the successful completion of the serum's testing, and the only known samples of the anti-magic serum are right now secured in my pocket. The muggles outside the wards cannot harm you with the anti-magic serum if they do not have it, and Lucius is fairly certain they do not."

Severus continued, "We do, however, need to know how extensive this scheme is, Ms. Granger, for I do not think I underestimate things to say the fate of the entire wizarding world again rests on our shoulders. Did you ever study legilimency as I suggested?"

He watched as she bit her lip while the bastard watched her and absorbed everything that was said around him. Severus, however, was pleased to note that he now wore a dirt-encrusted, bloodied imprint of the Malfoy signet on his cheek.

"Errm…perhaps you could talk me through it?" Hermione asked uncertainly.

Severus tsk'd.

"I know, I know! I just…it was one thing, then another, and you and Lucius were already so well-versed on the subject, I just—I never found the time," she ended in a small voice. "I could _obliviate_ him, but that won't do anything for the mess outside my wards, and like you said, this could well spark an international wizarding nightmare, especially if word of the serum spreads."

He watched as she scrubbed at her face tiredly and then gave the bastard a level look. "I've dedicated years of my life, Michael, to trying to bridge the muggle and wizarding worlds, to trying to convince wizards that muggles and their technology are something that need to be actively embraced. _Gods!_ What I want to know is why? Why, Michael? Why would you do this?"

The bastard cocked his head to the side, and smiling slightly, continued to study her.

Finally, she said, "Alright. To answer your earlier question, the two gentlemen that you cannot see are Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy. Among other things, they are skilled at detecting deception and will tell me if any of the answers you are going to give me are lies."

She drew a deep breath, and gave the bastard a sad smile. "You like to play games, and Merlin knows you've played them enough with me over the years. So," she clasped her hands together. "let's play a game. It's called 'buy your memories back'. For each answer you give me that is the truth, I will let you keep some aspect of yourself and your history intact."

She held up a restraining finger, "However, you should know that for each lie, misdirection, or untruth you give, a critical piece of your childhood, education, hell, even your family history will be removed. The process is called _obliviation_, and I am level Expert." She leveled her wand at him. "Now, start talking."

Severus's eyebrows rose.

The bastard, however, looked thoroughly unimpressed with her threat, and he answered in a bored, sing-song voice, "I was born a poor, black child. I remember the days, sittin' on the porch with my family, singin' and dancin' down in Mississippi..."

Hermione shook her head and laughed. "Oh, Michael… that's very cute. _Obliviate_."

Severus watched as a thin, white tendril of mist trickled from her wand and slowly drifted into the bastard's ear. A moment later, he shook his head as if to clear it.

Clasping her hands once more together, Hermione asked casually, "Say, …Michael, what was your dissertation on?"

"It was on the human gen—… it was studying the…" He squinted his eyes, and Severus could see he was trying to recall…

"You do remember getting it, right? Your doctorate? Standing on stage and shaking the Provost's hand."

The muggle looked confused. "Yes, but…it's funny, I don't—"

"Remember, I know. And that is how the process of obliviation works. I left you the memory of your graduation so you would know that you were once actually a doctor, but incidentally, you're no longer a doctor of anything. For, with my removal of the memory, and the information of your dissertation itself, the little bits of paper, celluloid, and print that you so arduously struggled to piece together for three years of your life have disappeared as well. You remember receiving your doctorate, but you never have actually received it for you no longer have the information, both mentally and in print, to back it up. Do you understand?"

Lucius sidled up to Severus and asked him quietly, "Receiving your muggle doctorate… what exactly is that equivalent to in the magical world?"

Severus gave him a level stare. "It's akin to receiving your Mastery in a specific field. It would be as if Hermione took away the memories and research that _I _completed to attain my Potion's Mastery."

Lucius's eyebrows rose as he stated hesitantly, "An obliviate of that precise scope and detail..."

"Exactly." Severus stated.

Severus watched as the Mic bastard's eyes widened, and Hermione flashed him a small, reluctant smile. "Your childhood memories are next. Let's say... that summer you went to see James Bond and then went diving in the cape. Those two events convinced you to become an MI6 operative didn't they? They were a pivotal part of your childhood. Why, without those memories, there's no telling what you'd be… or who?"

The bastard gave her a murderous glare, and Severus raised his eyebrows again as he looked down at her.

Well he knew that she could be vicious when provoked, but this was just… …well… _scary_. Calm, cool, and ultimately in control, the witch hardly needed them there at all as she interrogated the bastard.

And Severus didn't think it possible to hold her in any greater esteem than he already had or to feel any more love for the little witch than he already did. But at that moment, Severus Snape realized he could and did.

He looked over to find Lucius looking at her with a mixture of awe and lust, his hand inches from caressing a curl at her nape. He stopped himself, however, and took a step away; as again, both stood back to watch.

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"When did all of this begin?"

"All of what? You are going to have to be more specific." Michael replied, but Hermione was pleased to see a deferential sort of respect in his eyes now when he regarded her. By her calculation, they had been talking a little over two hours; Severus and Lucius had let her handle the questioning which surprised her a bit. And yet, she still didn't have a solution as to what to do about the mess outside her wards.

Standing to either side of her as she sat, she felt their proximity and drew reassurance from it. Both Severus and Lucius, she knew, were 'reading' Michael, even without the use of legilimency, the both of them were capable of spotting a lie at fifty paces. Such was the nature of a Slytherin's training.

Thus far, Michael had told her the truth, and she had not had to _Obliviate_ him again.

But she now had more details concerning his plans for her thanks to the information she gleaned from him and Lucius's judicious spying. Severus had passed the information to her, telling her all of what Lucius saw while at the lab, how Michael had almost killed the other doctor responsible for the anti-magic serum.

He told her about his wife and child and the suicide/murder that had been committed because of long-term dementor feeding. Hermione had gasped in dismay at that, but one look from Michael, and she knew he would neither want her words of sympathy.

And then, Severus went on to explain how Michael had wanted to lead her to his lab, render her a squib, and serve as his 'flagship' for what a reformed witch could do with herself once she was without magic.

Hermione now knew exactly what he had intended for her: an opportunity to be his research partner and hopeful lover… that was if she hadn't refused him. He and the doctor he had almost killed earlier tonight had created the serum when Michael had isolated the magical gene. It had taken years and years of planning, but he had done it. And he had wanted her to adopt his cause as her own, to literally declare war on magic and its practitioners and help him create a way to mass-distribute the serum to every household in the world. For she was proof, was she not, that rogue genes occasionally occurred within the human genome to create the mutated gene necessary for magic?

The serum would have put an end to it all—pureblooded, half-blooded, and muggle-born alike.

Michael would not have stopped at 'no' had she refused to be a part of his scheme; she was the lynchpin after all. Ultimately, he was planning on learning all he could from her about the magical world, and then, if she was _still_ unwilling to help him, take her life.

"If it's any consolation, Sweets, I am more than confident it wouldn't have come to that." Michael smiled blandly at her. "After all, it's called Stockholm Syndrome for a reason. You would have submitted to my wishes… eventually."

"Gods! You're repulsive."

"No." He shook his head. "Not repulsive, just determined. After all, one man's righteous mission is another's radical agenda. Tell me, Hermione, did you or did you not commit crimes during this war of yours?"

Putting both feet on the ground, Hermione leaned forward in the wingback chair and clasped her hands together, forearms resting on her knees. "I am not going sit here and debate the merits of war-time philosophy with you."

He shrugged as if to say: _suit yourself._

"Fine," she said irritably. "Going back to my earlier question, you wanted me to be more specific? I will. When did you and your Commandant begin to plan this little scheme of yours, and how many people does it include? Do you have investors? Private backing? Political ties?"

"Your answers are as follows: 1997, thousands, yes, yes, and yes."

Hermione had no warning before Michael was being choked to death before her eyes.

One moment she was dissecting his answers to question him further, the next, he was straining and gasping for breath, his eyes bulging out of his skull while the ropes that held him bound to the chair grew tighter and tighter due to his struggling against them.

She rose, pointing her wand at the invisible arm currently providing the strangle-hold. "Sever—Luciu—! One of you stop the other one!" Releasing Michael from his binds wasn't an option, and she could neither see nor cast a spell on Severus and Lucius to stop them. "HONESTLY! One of you is acting positively Gryffindorish! It's beneath you to be so impulsive!"

Hermione heard Severus whisper something urgently, but she couldn't hear the reply. Michael was turning blue _and_ rapidly losing consciousness. And then, he was being released, the ropes that bound him to the chair loosened slightly as he coughed and gagged, gasping for breath, his color slowly beginning to return to normal.

She nodded and sat back in the chair as well, giving him a moment to collect himself. And too, before moving on, she wanted to make certain Severus and Lucius were once more beside her. They had already said they wanted him dead, and she could do nothing to stop them if they decided this would be the case. Reaching out to first the left and then the right, she felt for each of their sleeves, and drawing a deep breath, she began again. "Alright, so 1997 was when the initial planning for this… —what is this undertaking you've given yourselves called anyway?"

Swallowing and still trying to gain his breath, Michael gasped, "Are you out of your goddamned mind?! That bastard just tried to kill me!"

She smiled innocently. "Hmm, one man's righteous mission is another's radical agenda… right? After all, it's all a matter of perspective for _they_ could say they were paying you back for trying to destroy their way of life."

He looked at her expressionless, and she shrugged, "Now, I'm not really sure which one it was, but both used to be high ranking Death Eaters, and as such, have a very vested interest in the survival of our kind." His eyes widened as his expression grew dumbfounded.

"Oh, Sweets," Michael laughed harshly and shook his head. "You sure know how to pick 'em!"

She smiled tightly. "Don't I know it; now, the name of the mission?"

"Project Angel Fall." Michael ground through clenched teeth.

"Ah, how… poetic," she said, thoroughly unimpressed. "And this 'Project Angel Fall' was begun when you were an MI6 operative under the Queen's Service?"

Michael shook his head. "No. The planning was begun in 1997 and was kept secret from the majority of government administration. We knew even then that the Prime Minister and Queen had a firm treatise withheld between the magical and normal worlds. My superior Commandant Lewis actually founded the project the following year in 1998—the year he retired. Incidentally, that was also the year my wife and daughter were killed. I joined him the year after that when I was discharged from Her Majesty's Service."

"And just how, Michael," Hermione asked, more than curious, "did you find out about me?" For although she was quite renowned in the wizarding world, outside of it, Hermione Granger was no one, a nothing in the eyes of muggle society with little to her credit and almost nothing to contribute to the muggle world.

He looked at her, an echo of his disarming grin came back as he spoke, "It was one of your magical newspapers—_The Daily Prophet_. It was on the Prime Minister's desk. Commandant Lewis took it and made a Xeroxed copy before placing it back again. The pictures did not move, of course, but the gist was still the same. They were running an exposé on the heroes of the war. You were featured page three, center, your picture obviously one from your school years.

"It was a thoroughly in-depth article detailing your accounts and contributions to the war effort, also telling of your private losses. The article mentioned your parents… _forever lost to you_ is how the article put it, and now, I guess I know how _that_ certainly transpired." He ended dryly as he eyed her wand.

Hermione paled. "Don't you _dare_ to mention my parents."

He shook his head. "Oh, why not, Sweets? Is it because you deleted their identities just as surely as you deleted my education; relocating them to Sydney, Australia wasn't it? Now a childless, retired couple that go by the name of …Wilkins if I'm not mistaken? I always wondered just how that happened… just how you convinced them to abandon their identities and move halfway round the world.

"And there they are, heading towards the twilight of their years, never to even know that they have a daughter. You must tell me, Sweets, how did it feel to be eighteen years old and making such a colossal, life-altering decision for them: those that loved you most? And you more than likely doing so without their consent." He grinned. "And you accuse _me_ of megalomania?!"

"Stop it." She ground through clenched teeth.

"No. I don't think I wi—" Suddenly, invisible hands were once more ripping Michael from his chair as phantom fists began punching him in the stomach, the groin, the face.

Hermione looked closer, there was a rock, a sharp-tipped, large rock clenched in the fist of the pugilist as he used Michael as a punching bag.

"STOP IT!" Hermione yelled, once more gaining her feet and rushing over to where Michael now stood: still bound by the magical rope, and yet, unable to defend himself. Laying a hand where she thought the shoulder of the one administering the beating stood, she knew instantly by feel that it was Severus.

"Severus." she commanded, "Stop!"

The rock continued to hammer away viciously, getting more and more bloody and doing more damage the longer he continued. She grabbed for his shoulder, trying to draw him away, entreating him to obey, but she felt a hand on her shoulder, and then Lucius was drawing _her_ away and holding her to him, staying her while the beating continued.

Moaning, Michael received another blow to his face, drops of blood flying free to splatter and then disappear on Severus's invisible form.

She turned her face away. "Please." she whispered brokenly, "Please, Severus… just stop."

The pummeling ceased.

She drew a shaky breath and blew it out, looking now pulpy mess of Michael's once handsome face. She broke away from Lucius's arms, and drawing her wand, siphoned and slowed as much of the bleeding from him as she could. With a flick of her wrist, she set his nose to rights, and then she once more bound him to the chair and to the forest floor.

Michael hung his head, his breathing hard.

"We will have no more of that," she said quietly to where she thought both Severus and Lucius stood. "I mean it the both of you. Do not touch him again." Looking back at Michael, she saw his face was a plethora of black, red, and blue.

He looked up at her, his green eyes piercing hers as he spit out a wad of blood…_and teeth_.

"After all," she gulped and sat. "They do say that sticks and stones may break the bones, but words can never hurt me… at least, not from a _muggle_ like yourself, Michael."

Michael returned her words with a wry smile of his own, blood dripping from the corner of his now jagged, gap-toothed grin. "If that's the way you feel about it, Sweets, I have one final _challenge_ left for you." He spit out another spray of blood. "One final _word_. After all, I think the answer to one teeny, tiny question is owed after all the years of friendship and confidences we've shared together."

Hermione's jaw hardened.

"Ms. Granger." Lucius's hand appeared on her shoulder, but it was Severus that spoke. He crouched beside her, his invisible hand covered hers where it gripped the arm of the chair. He continued, speaking softly, "You don't owe this bastard a thing. Blindfold and gag him; we've gotten more than enough information out of him to plan our course from here on out."

Hermione nodded.

Michael shook his head and muttered, "Sticks and stones, Sweets." He looked pointedly at her wand. "But you say _my_ words could never hurt you." His eyes flashed. He was daring her as he always had done, challenging her as he'd said he would do.

She met his stare, livid.

"Fine." she grit through clenched teeth. "One final word before I completely erase from you your identity just as I did to my parents. I will grant you a boon I did not even give to them in honor of our years of _valued_ _friendship _together. One final question, Michael, and then it's done."

She heard Severus heave a disappointed sigh as he rose; he squeezed her hand, coming to stand beside her once more. Meanwhile, Lucius kept his hand on her shoulder lending her his support.

Michael looked into her eyes, and for the first time that night, his expression lost its fanatical edge. He looked at her as he used to, studying her, contemplating, and Hermione almost had to turn her eyes away from him because it hurt so much.

For in his eyes, she could see that he truly had cared for her. He still, in fact, _did_.

At length, he asked quietly, "And just what, Hermione Jean Granger, has being magical ever done for you?"

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He continued to talk as Hermione shut her eyes and pursed her lips against the question, tried to shut out his words.

"The only child of John and Joan Granger, and up until you were ten years old, perfectly normal and well-adjusted, unexplained magical occurrences aside of course. Tell me, how did it feel to rewrite your parents' memories? To know that you were capable of that kind of power at eighteen—_EIGHTEEN_?! Barely knowing yourself, and yet, deciding of your parents' futures for them."

Michael shook his head. "That kind of trauma leaves scars, Hermione. Deep, emotional scars that will haunt you and _never_ heal, that tend to manifest themselves in such unique and interesting ways. And how you've carried the burden of that, and other types of guilt with you for years. Did you think I could not see it? I did not know? How lonely and isolated you seem, how incredibly desperate you are for validation and approval."

Her head jerked back as if he'd slapped her.

His eyes pleaded with hers. "I do not mean to splay and expose you like this, Hermione, but this is very important. I am trying to show you exactly where your choices have led you thus far, due solely to the power you hold, and I'm sorry, but brutal honesty does hurt."

She shook her head, denying what he said, but he continued on undeterred.

"Have you ever wondered what your life might have been like had you been born a normal child? I can tell you what I know." Michael smiled softly. "Had you been born normal, non-magical, you would be extolled and lauded in whatever profession you chose to pursue. You would have been given the world in return for what you could bring to it. You still can, Hermione! Don't you see? Magic has done _nothing_ to enhance your life, and everything to detract from it."

"You're wrong." she whispered.

"Oh, am I? What do you do with the power that you hold now that you've won this war of yours, hmm? Surround yourself with those that do not appreciate you, appreciate the sacrifices you've made, the gifts you can bring. And you do so willingly." He shook his head. "Case in point: the two 'Death Eaters' that are currently gathered in attendance at this little tête-à-tête of ours. And these men—this Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy—they are your two business partners are they not?

"The older gentlemen with whom you have chosen to hitch your wagon, and _that_ is in and of itself a Freudian quandary isn't it? Having an Electra complex it is called, and wouldn't a psychologist have a field day with you?" His eyes flashed at her knowingly, and she blushed, again shaking her head in denial.

"From the comments you've let slip over the years, I know they will _never_ appreciate you… those people you work for and those that work for you. They can never understand you, Hermione. You are not one of them and never shall you be!

"Born the way you were of normal parentage, and due to a fault of genetic chance, inducted into a closed society that revolves solely around blood status, you can never win! You will _never_ be one of them. Don't you see? You are of two worlds, Hermione. And like Sisyphus forever pushing that boulder uphill, you will never accomplish your goal of acceptance, of validation in the magical world.

"And how you spread yourself… so thin at times trying to achieve it. I can see the cracks, the tears in your psyche. What's the saying, 'Jane of all trades, mistress of none?' Well," he laughed, "that's you to a tee is it not, Sweets?

"You've given of yourself so completely, so neatly over the years to a cause, a culture that could care less for you. And deep down, you know it's true_._" He laughed and shook his head, "And those _Slytherins_ as you have affectionately called them from time to time, these _Death Eaters _that are with you now; the ones that, if I do recall correctly from my briefing, were the predominant instigators of the war in which you fought. Do you not see, Hermione? That's why you surround yourself with those that would judge you the most—those that will judge you for your heritage and your parentage, so you can't forget, not for a moment, who you are and what you've done to those who loved you most.

"You are punishing yourself; self-flagellation to the nth degree. You blame yourself for the power you hold. You _hate_ yourself for it, and deep down, Sweets. Deep down, you want to be rid of it. For it is a burden—an unnecessarily 'great responsibility' as you so put it earlier— that should never have been yours in the first place."

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Swallowing back the bile she felt, Hermione rose from the chair, and walking to the other side of her wards, turned her back on the lot of them. She felt someone—Lucius come behind her and tentatively touch her shoulder.

"Please," she entreated, holding up her hand. "Please, just… give me a moment." She wished her voice didn't sound as unsteady and shattered as she felt.

Lucius left, and she was alone; alone with her thoughts and the ache of being emotionally splayed open by Michael for both Severus and Lucius to see.

'_Sticks and stones' indeed, Hermione, my girl._ She had asked for it—had given him his boon after all. Once more foolishly rising to the challenge he set. _And_ a_ll that he said… all that he saw—_ she felt tears well in her eyes, and she quashed them. _Dear Gods! Do not think on it! Now is not the time! _

Ruthlessly, she occluded the emotions she felt, stuffing them down deep, down so deep that if she wanted to, she could forget that Michael's insights, his words ever existed. _One existential crisis at a time, Hermione,_ she told herself as she drew a deep, ragged breath.

Scrubbing her face tiredly with the back of her hands, she took a moment to peer outside the border of her wards. The muggles were still there, armed to the teeth with their muggle weapons drawn, and there were so many of them.

No. She couldn't hide in this corner forever. She had to face his words, face him.

It was time to put an end to this.

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Severus watched as Lucius hovered near her. Oh, but he truly wanted to kill the bastard! Hurt him more for hurting her so deeply.

The bastard had demeaned what she had done, belittled it. Surely she couldn't believe half of what was said…

And yet, she was as white as a sheet, the only spots of color were twin flags of red riding high on her cheeks.

He vowed then and there that once this accursed night was done, and his body restored him, he was going to spend the rest of his life showing her just how much she meant to him as both a partner in the business that they shared and, gods willing, a partner in his bed.

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Drawing another centering breath, Hermione turned back to face Michael, walking so that she stood in front him.

"I have let you say your piece, and now, I shall have mine." Her eyes flashed as she stared down at him. "The power that is intrinsic in magic is neither good nor evil and must be respected and trained. I have spent the greater part of my life honoring the gifts I've been given, and doing so for the side of the light. And the majority of the witches and wizards I've met feel the same.

"As within any society, there are outliers, and it was this group of people that took to power for power's sake and caused a war among our kind—_my_ kind for I count myself among their number and always shall."

Her tone lost some of its edge as her eyes softened. "What happened to your squadron and your family was unfortunate and very tragic, but ultimately, Michael, it is the cost of war. And of the four of us gathered here today, each has had to pay _that_ price in one form or another. And you should know that I include what I did to my parents as a part of that.

"In choosing to completely destroy an entire society based on the treatment of a few of its individuals, you become exactly what you despise. And ultimately, that makes you no different from those you would see condemned.

"In all that you've said though, you were completely right about one thing: you and I could have done such great things together. You had such potential, Michael, to be a light in the darkness and help the world with the genetic research you've accomplished." She shook her head, her decision made. "But, unfortunately for you, you chose to destroy instead of create."

His posture crumbled.

With her words, she vanquished him. She knew it, and now he knew it as well. She turned her back on him and waited expectantly for Severus and Lucius to join her.

"Anything else you'd like to add? Severus? Lucius?"

She felt Lucius's hand squeeze her shoulder, and Severus said near her ear, "Ms. Granger, what he said to you—" She held up her hand, stopping him.

"Please. Just tell me, is there anything else you'd like to ask of him?"

She heard Severus sigh. At length, he stated, "These thoughts, these ideas and scientific accomplishments of his pose a threat to the wizarding world. We cannot kill him." Severus's tone sounded deeply regretful of that, "but we can make it to where he will never be able to think these thoughts, have these ideas again. Therefore, I think a new direction for him is in order."

Lucius squeezed her shoulder, and she took it for an agreement with Severus's words.

Hermione nodded and swallowed thickly. "I gathered as much as well: a new identity, a new profession, a new history. Well, I guess all that's left is to _Obliviate_ him and be done."

"No—you can't!" Michael cried.

She looked behind her to see him begging her, his eyes pleading. "Hermione, please! We are nothing without our memories! My wife, my daughter! You can't ta—" a flick of her wand, and Michael fell silent, a soft binding appearing across his mouth preventing him from speaking another word.

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_**A/N:**_ There now, an extra-long chapter to tide you over until the next, you insatiable readers you! Oh, I must confess, I was tempted to cut this one in two, but I wanted Mic out of the picture. Vanquished. Done.

After all, the ick-factor can only be tolerated for so long… But now, what to do about all those pesky muggles outside the wards that may or may not have the serum...?

If you've liked what you've read, please do drop me a line and let me know how I'm doing. :D

Update again next week, dear readers!

Keep watch.

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	24. The Power of Three

Ch. 24— The Power of Three

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Lucius was nothing if not a great strategist.

'Set the deck and watch 'em fall' had always been his private motto, and as he listened to Hermione and Severus dicker back and forth about how best to contain this entirely untenable situation, certain facts about their circumstances began to present themselves:

Number one: They were on a great, untapped reserve of power.

Number two: They were a magical triad. Granted, two of their number were incapacitated and diminished almost to the point of ghostliness, but still… in this place, that hardly seemed to matter.

Number three: Hermione was expert at the obliviate charm.

Number four: Severus had found a way to resonate with the nexus of magical power, thereby providing the potential to harness the reserve on which they stood.

"—as tempting as your idea to summon and unleash a chimera on them is, Severus, I think a large-scale, targeted lightening strike might be the better choice at getting them to disperse without any bloodshed."

Lucius watched as Severus crossed his arms, his jaw hardening. "A chimera would be more effective at promoting a _lasting_ impression. And that still leaves the little matter of cleaning up after this mess. It seems we are going to have to notify the North American Consulate _and_ the Ministry after all, and the repercussions are going to be catastrophic to wizarding-muggle relations."

"—Severus." Lucius broke in.

"Not unless we can figure out a way to contain it." Hermione rejoined. "Gods! This is exactly why we need to keep watch on muggle technology and experimentation; not shun it and—heavens forbid!—try and destroy it. It's like a damned ten-headed hydra!"

"—Severus. I may have an idea—" Again, Lucius interrupted, this time tapping Hermione on her shoulder to gain her attention as well.

"And that's another thing," continued Severus, "according to Lucius, this serum actually works at suppressing the magical gene. Genetics is not a field in which I am admittedly well-versed, but I can tell you, Ms. Granger, that if the magical community ever found out about this, there would be all-out anarchism. We need to work on finding a cure—"

"Yes, I've been thinking about that… I believe the cure may have to do with my work with squibs," she interjected, biting her lip and getting a faraway look in her eye that augured hours and hours yet of discussion still left to come. "If we can find the link, then maybe w—" Lucius grabbed her by the nape and stuffed his tongue down her throat effectively silencing her, all-the-while yanking Severus's nose—HARD!

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Two outraged squawks followed in the wake of his actions, and Lucius quickly pulled away from each of and made to distance himself.

Dabbing at the sides of his mouth with his pocket square, he cocked a lone eyebrow for Severus's benefit, and asked, "If you two are quite finished?"

Severus rubbed at his nose as he stated nasally, "I believe, Ms. Granger, that Lucius has something he would like to say."

Lucius looked over at the witch to find her with a somewhat stunned and then very much annoyed look on her face. He smirked to see it.

And gods, how he hated communicating like this! "Severus, if you would please relate to Ms. Granger that we are on a great, untapped reserve of power that you just so happen to know how to access if not yet necessarily wield. The three of us form a triad, and even with our forms as diminished as they are, you and I may still be able to help channel the power of the nexus. Add to that Hermione's skill at obliviation, and we might possibly have a chance to get a handle on this situation tonight, thereby removing it from the muggles' collective memory and avoiding sticky and loathsome inquiries."

Severus passed on Lucius's words—minus the bit about the triad— and Lucius watched as Hermione's eyes widened in comprehension, and then she smiled. "Oh, Lucius, that's brilliant! It could be like the concept of muggle virus and exponential replication. It only takes one…one virus to replicate into two, and then two to four, four to sixteen, sixteen to two hundred and fifty-six and so forth…" He watched her transfigure a leaf into a chalk board and a piece of stone into chalk as she began to calculate, already lost in an arithmantic haze of equations.

Severus drew Lucius aside, giving him a sidelong look as he said quietly, "How are we going to make the triad? We haven't even, in reality, successfully formed it yet?"

Lucius patted him on the back. "The three of us have been working as a triad for over eight years now, Severus. Just because we haven't technically made love to the girl in real life doesn't mean she is not _ours_… at least, insofar as magical workings within a triad are concerned. Now, I would really appreciate it if you spent some time explaining to me your process of resonating with the nexus for I would like to speak to her as well."

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Hermione needed to target anyone associated with 'Project Angel Fall' and have the Project stricken from each and every person's memory. She could visualize the concept in her mind. It would start with Michael and then anyone Michael knew who was associated with the Project, and then anyone they knew, and so on and so forth, until everyone who had ever come across or heard of 'Project Angel Fall' in any way had their memory of the Project deleted, any thoughts on magic or the magical world destroyed, and the events of ten years ago erased from memory and explained away by something as mundane as global climate change.

It would take a massive amount of power.

To perform an obliviate charm of that magnitude was going to require practically Dumbledorian skill and an unheard store of magical energy… and yet, even then, it might not be enough.

Ordinarily, to work a spell of that enormity would require scores of witches and wizards assembled together directly focusing their power to a worthy conduit that would then perform the work. There had been only a few witches and wizards in the history of magic that had wielded that much power and lived—with their sanity still intact—to tell the tale.

Dumbledore was one. Tom Riddle another. And _he_ was a textbook example of what access to that much power channeling through the veins of a wizard could do to one's mental state should the wizard be weak or falter in any way. It was no understatement to say that what Hermione was attempting to construct and possibly undertake was some foolish shite.

Still, on she calculated, filling an entire half of the warded perimeter with her transfigured boards and finally, when she looked up, the foliage-dappled sky was just heralding the gray light of dawn. Looking outside her wards to the forest beyond, more muggle military personnel had arrived while she had been deep in thought. And now, the four of them were officially surrounded at least three deep with as many muggle guns and armored men as to effectively obliterate them if they weren't at that moment magically protected.

Rubbing absently at her neck, Hermione stepped back and into the familiar arms of… Lucius. She knew because of the way he held her so gently, encouraging her to lean against him. And yet, she felt Severus step beside her, close enough for her to reach out and touch him if she wanted.

It was so strange how she was learning to feel their imprints, their essences, not by touch or sight, but by some sixth sense that let her know when they were near.

At length, Severus spoke. "Your premise is sound, Ms. Granger, but it is going to require precision and practically all the magic located in the wellspring to be able to sustain it."

She bit her lip, and looked up to where she thought he stood. Gods, she wished she could see them! "I know, and even then, I don't think I'll be able to control that kind of power. Just thinking about it sets my skin to tingling and not in a good way."

"Severus and I have been discussing that." Hermione jumped as Lucius spoke softly in her ear.

"I can hear you!"

"You've been able to for a few hours now. You've just been immersed in your arithmantic web and postulation." He growled as he nuzzled her neck, and Hermione blushed and broke away from him. _What in the world? What was Lucius thinking?!_ She stepped away from both men and once more went over her calculations, triple-checking them as she studied the modified obliviate neural virus she had just constructed.

_Theoretically_…it could work.

She would access Michael's memory much as a computer virus accessed the host's email address book, looking for anyone associated with 'Project Angel Fall'. And anyone associated would automatically be infected by her neural virus as well, and then anyone _they_ knew—kind of like the branches on a tree—until all living memory of the project had been erased, the physical work destroyed, and the facilities housing the project abandoned.

"The serum that we have will not disappear though, correct? How on Earth did you get rid of that little paradox?" Lucius asked as he came to stand beside her.

She narrowed her eyes as she explained, "Well, if the muggles outside the nexus have any of it, it _will_ disappear. Ordinarily, the serum would disappear when the memories of its creator were destroyed. But since possession is nine-tenths of the law in magic as well as muggle law enforcement, I long-ago exposed a loophole in the spell to make it to where we can still hold onto the serum for testing.

"You see, when I obliviated my parents' memory of me, I took a few photographs from home. They should have disappeared with the rest of the photographs when my parents' memories were wiped away. But they didn't, thanks to the loophole."

Looking back at the night's work she completed, she scrubbed tiredly at her eyes, the figures and runes blurring together in a haze of arithmantic algorithm. "Lucius, would you mind taking a look at the modified charm and make sure my logic is well-reasoned? I really don't want to mess this up!"

Severus spoke softly from beside her, "Always looking for someone to stroke that ego of yours, Ms. Granger? At this point, witch, you know it's sound." He used his best 'irritating-dunderhead asks a stupid question' voice to reply to her. There was something deeply comforting in that, and she basked in the glow of the sidewise compliment he bestowed her… and then thought of how twisted and messed up that was.

Gods! After this week, she was going to need some serious couch time with a therapist!

As Lucius checked her work, pausing to comment on a rune here, a brief change in wording there, Hermione continued explaining, "I've tailored the spell to work only on muggles; after all, only muggles should be affected… _one should hope_. Of course, we will know if anyone in parliament was involved for the memory of the magical world shall be erased upon the spell's completion, and if they are, then that's a whole other slough of problems to worry about…

"But if not, and from the intelligence we've gathered, I think it's safe to assume that this is an isolated incident within a somewhat privatized environment, and as such, only those muggles that know of 'Project Angel Fall' should be affected. And only _their_ memories of the Project and of the magical world will be deleted."

Lucius once more drew up beside her. "Working within the realm of charms' theory, I can find no flaw. Your reasoning is sound, Hermione." She felt the brush of the backs of his fingertips along her cheek, and then he was tucking a stray curl behind her ear. Why, after so many times of him having done that, did this time make her heart beat quicken?

She shook her head. _Nerves_. It was all just nerves.

Lucius was acting very strangely. It had to do with the invisible state they were in, and she was just nervous about the upcoming spell. _One mystery at a time, Hermione. One crisis at a time. Channel the power of Hiroshima first, and then find out why Severus and Lucius are almost ghost-like beings. _

And again, she triple-checked her work, working it both backwards and forwards to come to the same conclusive end.

Finally satisfied, she drew a deep breath and stepped back a last time from her boards. "Well, what do we do now?" she addressed the two beside her.

She felt someone reach for and grab her hand… it was Lucius again, and he spoke, keeping a respectful distance from her.

"Now, we explain to you the power of three."

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"After all, you have experienced this power before."

Lucius watched as Hermione looked up curiously at the space approximate to where he stood. He kept hold of her hand and steeled himself for her reaction.

"You were part of a former triad, Hermione, which consisted of Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and yourself." As his words registered, he watched her face turn ashen and then blazing red. Lucius continued, speaking gently, "When the three of you were in that tent, the Dark Lord's cursed necklace—the horcrux you were wearing about your neck— took possession of you."

"H-how do you know about that?!" She tried to yank her hand away from his, but Lucius held on, stepping closer to her.

"Hermione—"

She tugged her hand a final time, and Lucius conceded, releasing her.

She stepped away and turned her back on them. He heard her say, "Harry, Ron, and I never—and I do mean _NEVER_—told another soul! So that means what? Both you and Severus…" she ran a hand through her thoroughly disheveled hair, tearing at it further, "You what?" She turned back to face them, injured despair in her eyes. "You had a peek at my memories then?"

Lucius looked over to find Severus watching her with a grief-stricken look on his face.

She drew her wand and pointed it approximate to where he and Severus stood. "Be glad I can't see either of you… be glad you're in the state you're in. _**BE GLAD!**_"

"Hermione—"

"SHUT UP!" Red sparks flew from the tip of her wand. "I don't want to hear it! Just tell me what it is I need to do to activate the wellspring."

"It's not that simple." Lucius began, inching his way closer to her. "It will take the three of us. A magical triad, just as _your_ triad destroyed the horcrux, love." Again, he reached out to her, and tried to place a soothing hand on her nape.

She jerked away from him; her jaw hard, and her eyes flinty. "You mean I have to—?!"

"Gods, NO!" Severus spoke from where he stood behind her. She spun to face him. "Hermio—Ms. Granger, you never have to unwillingly share of yourself in that manner—_EVER_."

Lucius saw her draw a shaky breath and nod. Even as he watched, she drew herself up. "Well then, what do we need to do?" Her tone was all business, her manner standoffish and brusque.

Lucius matched her in both tone and stance. "As I was saying, the power of a magical triad enhances whatever magical working the triad chooses to undertake; whether it be destroying a bit of evil or trying to channel an enormous amount of magical energy in order to empower a far-reaching spell. Severus and I are incorporeal, and as such, we cannot help you cast, but we can help buffer and channel the energy that is going to flow through you like a sieve. We can ground you and give you control to be able to focus your intent, to be able to wield that much power."

Her jaw tight, she nodded once.

"Our non-corporeal state is very conducive for this, and in point of fact, it is quite serendipit—"

"Will you get on with it?" she snapped.

Lucius ground his teeth together, literally having to bite back a retort. He deserved it after all. Severus and he deserved her ire. He looked over to find Severus had both eyebrows raised.

"_As I was saying_," Lucius ground, "our non-corporeal state is very conducive to being able to funnel and conduct the energy of this place into the spell-work you'll be undertaking. It will take the three of us: two for focus and one to cast in order to be able to prime the wellspring and then cast the spell. Do you understand, Hermione?"

She nodded tersely. "Again, what do I need to do?"

"First, you need to calm your mind, girl." Severus spoke from the other side of her. "Anger serves a purpose, it gives clarity at times, motivation at others, but here, it is only going to make your thoughts more muddled and unfocused. And you of all people know the precision needed to wield a spell of this intricacy and power."

And even though she couldn't see him, Lucius watched as Severus moved closer to her, staring at her intently as if willing her to be calm and centered. "So occlude it away, Ms. Granger. Isolate and sever the emotion you're experiencing from the thoughts you have. Emotion is of no use to you; you need to be precisely focused on the objective you're aiming to achieve."

_Gods, Severus really couldn't help it_, Lucius thought as he watched the dark wizard's voice have an almost tangible effect on the witch. She was still furious, Lucius could tell, but she was occluding her emotion, severing it just as Severus commanded she do.

Severus nodded. "Now, you need to picture the spell you want to undertake, girl. Focus on it. Concentrate."

Looking straight ahead of her, Lucius saw the exact moment her mind cleared, and she was ready to begin.

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_**A/N:**_ Another update soon, dear readers. Keep watch.

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	25. Triad Resonance

Ch. 25— Triad Resonance

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Hermione felt Lucius at her side. She allowed him to take her arm and lead her to face Michael's chair. Severus was on her other side, his hand just brushing the curvature of her waist.

She studied Michael; the first time she had done so since she had gagged him. He had not moved from his position in the chair, had not been able to do so. He looked around taking in her arithmantic equations, her formulae for the spell she was to perform, and then his eyes met hers, pleading with her as he shook his head.

She did not want to remove the gag to hear him beg; he looked as if he wanted to beg.

Reminding herself that even now she would be a squib if not for some very unlikely intervention in the pair of wizards to either side of her, she leveled her wand at Michael's forehead with a steady hand and felt Severus and Lucius's hands cover her own.

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Lucius reached over and placed an arm across Severus's shoulders. Severus likewise reciprocated the movement across Hermione's shoulders so that they were all three connected, bound repeatedly to one another by touch.

The witch still had her other hand free so that she could help cast the current of power the three of them would invoke.

Severus tried very hard not to think of what would happen should something go wrong. The example of Gilderoy Lockhart in the Janus Thickey would be the least of it should something catastrophic occur, and that would not only be for them, but for all of the minds the spell touched.

Instead, Severus centered himself and made his intention clear. He was to be a conduit for the witch nestled securely at his side. He was going to channel the power of this place to her, and through her, the spell she cast would take effect and become global.

She could do it. He had faith.

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Lucius, too, became centered and focused in what he was going to do.

Severus had demonstrated how to be able to tune his magical energy to that of the nexus. It was at a higher magical frequency than Lucius was accustomed, and therefore required more focus and energy to maintain. Once he did, however, he felt the power of the place resounding in his veins, his blood, his very soul, singing to him, calling to him with the ability to build him up or shake him apart.

It was nirvana.

Lucius drew a deep, calming breath and squeezed Hermione's hand where she held her wand while he met Severus's gaze.

It was time.

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Drawing a deep, steadying breath, Hermione slowly let it out, and holding up her other hand, began to call the power forth to cast the spell.

Immediately a tide of energy assailed her almost crushing in its intensity and panic quickly overwhelmed any other thought.

But even as she felt it, the tide eased as she felt Severus at her side, his touch strong and sure, grounding her—and the feeling receded as he began sharing the burden of the energy that was even now coursing through her. She felt Lucius as well, holding to them both, distributing the energy evenly, keeping them tethered amidst the wellspring of power now at her disposal.

As she waited, the energy became more controlled as Severus and Lucius continued to regulate it. From her periphery, she could now see a shimmering silhouette of both men as they held her while the power of the wellspring surged and coursed through them.

She felt Lucius squeeze her hand and Severus her shoulder, and she knew it was time for her to begin to conceptualize the focal point of energy that she needed. Slowly, she began to picture the wellspring rising to her will until it became a precision-point stream of power exactly as she imagined it to be.

Both Severus and Lucius held firm as she began to envision the modified obliviate spell, setting her intentions clear.

A missed wand movement or hastily spoken word at this juncture could mean disaster.

And knowing this was as grounded as she was going to get, Hermione began to cast, feeling like she was surfing the crest of a gigantic wave.

It was incredible. It was awe-inducing.

It was terrifying.

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Teeth gritted, Severus watched as the witch began to cast, feeling the energy of the nexus rise through him. He curtailed it, just as he felt Lucius doing, meting and feeding it to the little witch between them in measured doses, being careful not to overwhelm her as she cast the complex wand movements and said the correct incantations necessary for the spell to be effective over large distances with multiple persons involved.

And then, a thick gray rope of smoke began to twist from the tip of her wand into a helix pattern, winding insidiously over to the muggle. Severus watched as the bastard's eyes widened, his face a study in terror. He _should_ be afraid. If she missed one consonant, one incorrect wand movement, his brain would liquefy to mush before their very eyes. The additional protections she had included secured the bastard's safety, however, and should hold provided she correctly performed the spell.

The smoky helix drifted until it surrounded his head like a halo, twisting and roiling like a snake, and then suddenly, small finger-like curls of smoke sprouted from the helix, reaching and probing deep into his mind, and the bastard grew blank-faced and slack-jawed, his eyes rolling back in his skull as his head tipped forward.

At once, numerous shafts of gray smoke shot out from the smoky helix, going through the wards to pierce the minds of each and every muggle surrounding them. As one, they all froze stock-still in astonished confusion. And then in a flash, Severus watched bolts of gray strike out from each of them and shoot off determinedly into the horizon.

And he knew their mission had been a success.

The thick, snake-like rope with shafts of gray smoke dissolved into nothingness, and Severus saw the little witch between them tremble, her wand arm now less than steady. Moving closer, Severus grabbed for her to keep her upright, but soon realized he could no longer touch her.

He looked over at Lucius whose eyes were panic-filled. His arm was still across Severus's shoulders, but they could no longer feel Hermione between them.

They were intangible once again for the energy of the nexus had been spent.

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Hermione finished the incantation and closed the spell, giving Michael instructions for his new occupation and identity.

As far as everyone was concerned, Michael Jessup Fortenbrass the fourth died in a freak storm with his wife and two year old daughter nine years ago.

Lance Lester, however, was a recent immigrant to the United States from Great Britain and had no greater ambition in life than to teach high school environmental science at a school for underprivileged youths. Lance was told to go to Seattle, Washington, where he could complete his education and realize his fondest wish to put an end to the effects of global climate change that had, in essence, taken the lives of his young wife and daughter.

She quickly removed the gag and unbound him from the chair, and cleaning him up the best she could, minus the missing teeth and dirt-encrusted mark on his cheek, she released her wards and sent him walking.

As Hermione looked up, she saw the muggles surrounding them lay down their weapons in confusion and begin to walk away.

Nobody spoke as each of them found they had some place more pressing to be.

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_**A/N:**_ If you've liked what you've read, want to flame me in effigy for leaving you like this, or just plain want to drop me a line, please do so. I love hearing from you, my readers. And who knows, I might just (always) reply back. ;D

Another update posting soon.

Keep watch,

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	26. Fallout

Ch. 26— Fallout

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Hermione was mentally exhausted but still physically humming with energy thanks to the power of the nexus. Her skin literally zinged with it.

However, as she began to come down, she noticed that the wellspring's effects had greatly diminished. In fact, the place itself was now almost completely devoid of magic.

Startled, she looked around. "Severus? …Lucius?" And realized she could no longer feel their hands upon hers, their bodies pressed against hers anchoring her to them.

She reached out for them and groped, finding only empty air.

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_Merlin's Scrot! This could not get any worse!_ Lucius thought as he watched her blindly reach for them. They had exhausted the wellspring with that little spell of hers. They had depleted almost all of the energy pooled there, and now, Severus and he could no longer communicate or even touch her.

Her face morphed quickly from exhaustion to panic, and then from panic to pain and then finally to acceptance.

Methodically, she banished each of the muggle weapons so the place looked undisturbed—as if it had never contained the beginnings of what could very well have been a magical-muggle war of epic proportion. And then with a final glance, she clutched her wand to her. And Lucius had just enough presence of mind to grab for the edge of her sleeve, Severus through her shoulder, as she apparated away.

They appeared in her hotel room with a small pop.

She flew to her luggage, and as Lucius watched, she tore through it, emerging with her worn beaded handbag. She wasted no time in reaching in up to her shoulder searching for— "Where the fuck are they?!" She grunted, and groping desperately, finally pulled out a small strongbox from the bag's depths.

Laying it on the tabletop, both Lucius and Severus peered over her shoulder to see what she would keep under such warded enchantments; for the box was warded to its teeth.

Several complex wand movements and multiple incantations later, the box was opened to reveal… a package of muggle cigarettes.

She tore open the plastic packaging, and rapping the box none too gently on the edge of the table, flipped it open, pulled out a fag, and using her wand tip, lit up.

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Hermione inhaled and closed her eyes as the first bit of smoke filled her lungs. Exhaling slowly, and then in a rush, she looked down at the cigarette she held and grit her jaw.

Another gods-damned thing for which to loathe herself.

It was a habit she had picked up after the war, and it had been so long since she had indulged, so long since she found it necessary. But her life was one big pile of _FUCK IT_ right now, and she inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill her and calm her frayed nerves.

_Lucius and Severus had once again left her. _

_Michael. Gods! Michael!_

Viciously, she took another draw, and walking to the window, opened it, waving the smoke away. _Talk about being blind-sided! If Severus or Lucius hadn't been there… Merlin!_ If Severus or Lucius hadn't been there, she would right now at this moment be a fucking squib!

Gods! But she felt sick. Sick and light-headed and…

Leaning against the casement, she breathed out, forcing her thoughts to stay calm. _Think, Hermione. When was the last time you ate?_

_Yesterday morning? And even then, only a muffin…_

She flicked ash out onto the ledge, and taking one more drag, drew her wand and banished the accursed thing and any lingering smoke as well.

Picking up the hotel phone, she dialed room service, and a twangy, Appalachian voice answered the phone. "The Rivermont Front Desk, this is Ashley, and just how can we make your stay more comfortable today?"

"Errm, hello. This is Ms. Granger from 502. Could I order the full English, please?"

"The…full _English_…? Sorry, ma'am, but is that some kind of pay-per-view movie or somethin'?"

"Errm, …no." Hermione closed her eyes and gripped them tight. Gods, but she couldn't think! "Could you just… send me an assortment of whatever breakfast foods you have on hand?"

"Of course, yes ma'am." the attendant chirped, and Hermione quickly disconnected, running her tongue across her teeth and grimacing. She had the 'fuzzy slipper feeling' as her mum used to call the build-up of plaque on teeth.

She looked down at herself and cringed. She was positively foul.

Stripping and then banishing the clothes she wore, she made her way to the bathroom, and wrenching the knob, turned on the shower. Stepping into the spray, and then cursing and not bothering one wit with a towel, she went back to the bedroom to fetch her wand.

_As Merlin is my witness,_ she thought viciously, _I will never be without my wand again!_

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Lucius and he had hovered near her as she smoked and placed her call for food, but their presence seemed only to muddle and confuse her thoughts more, and so they went into the sitting room to give her privacy while she bathed.

Now registering her nudity as a matter of course, Severus watched the little witch go on a tear through her bedroom to find her wand. He realized that this was a new facet to Hermione's character; one he had never encountered before.

He was used to her controlled fury, her exacting revenge, but he was not used to this—this chaotic, self-destructive gnashing of teeth. She was shaking. The little witch was literally vibrating with frantic energy, and he didn't think all of it had to do with the power of the wellspring and the spell she wielded. Still, Severus carefully monitored her, looking for any signs that the power she had channeled had left her any ill effects.

Thus far, it didn't seem to be the case; it just seemed she was very tautly wound. However, she _was_ taking care of her physical needs of which Severus heartily approved. Bathing, the ordering of food… the cigarette was a bit of a surprise, and not a good one in his estimation.

His father had smoked; Severus _hated_ smoke.

And so, apparently did she if the locked and warded strong box was any indicator. He shook his head.

She was in shock, a kind of mental paralysis that comes from trauma. Occlumency training had served her well for a few hours, but it took years and years of discipline to keep that kind of emotion, that kind of shock that she had experienced tonight in check. And well he knew the toll it could take on body, mind, and soul to do so.

Yet Severus was under no delusions.

It would be a few minutes, perhaps after she had partaken of her meal, and then her thoughts would begin to process again, becoming less basic. And it was only a matter of time before she pieced together the fact that they were still with her, and as an eventuality of that fact, that they had never left.

Severus winced.

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About the second piece of toast and fourth slice of bacon, Hermione's mind kicked in again; this time into overdrive. Severus and Lucius had known all about Michael even before she had. Severus had even said Lucius had 'tailed' him.

And in the place of the nexus, they had been able to touch her and talk to her… that was before she had exhausted the wellspring of its power. How she wished she had asked more questions—better questions. _Made_ them answer her when she did ask…

But even as the thought came, she snorted.

She had learned that forcing a Slytherin to answer a question against his or her will was akin to sticking one's hand in a pit of vipers; one was unlikely to come out unscathed.

Well, at any rate, the right questions hadn't been asked _or_ answered.

However, she now knew much more about their circumstances than she did before this fiasco began, and it was always best when she first worked with what she knew…

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Lucius watched as the witch abruptly rose from table and grabbed her beaded bag, rifling through it once more. She finally used her wand and summoned a pen and paper from its depths. And sitting back down, she began making one of her infamous lists as she continued to nosh.

Placing a hand on the back of her chair, Lucius peered over her shoulder and read the heading:

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_**What I know:  
**L__ucius and Severus were with me at the wellspring._

_They cannot perform magic._

_Both are spying, scheming bastards that knew of previous triad experience by reading thoughts._

_They knew of Michael and his plans. _

'_Finite Incantatem' and diagnostic spells on Severus revealed nothing._

_I could hear and touch at the nexus. And briefly saw their silhouettes when performing spell._

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_**What I suspect:  
**__They are under some type of spell… possibly cursed? Seemed more concerned with my safety than their own… _

_Lucius suspended all employees for a week with pay… … …ergo they knew they were going to do this: __THEY DID IT TO THEMSELVES!_

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_**Strange occurrences:  
**__First day__—Feeling of being drugged/slipped a potion on plane.  
_(Lucius watched as her eyes widened as she remembered.)  
_Meal…. Potion?… Could S and L have been flight attendants?!_  
(He watched her snort back a laugh as she muttered, "Severus in drag? No… absolutely not." And Lucius smirked slightly to hear it for apparently she could picture him in switch just fine. He tracked her eye movements, watching as they looked up and to the left, and he knew she was replaying the flight once again in her mind. She bit her lip and mumbled to herself, "But there _was_ that scowl… and the general air of annoyance… but dressed as a woman… even polyjuiced?" She shook her head this time in finality. "No. Some things are just too fantastic to be believed," and resumed writing.)

_First night__—Felt presence, drew wand. Cast Homenum, revealed nothing. _

_Second day__— Nothing out of normal._

_Second night__—Had bad night's sleep._

_Third day—__ Awoke in foul temper. Crazed almost-lovemaking with Michael for no reason at all and brief freak-out after._

_Third night__— __Wet__ Nocturnal Emission._  
(Lucius watched her cheeks flush beautifully after she wrote that.)

_Fourth day__— Urge to masturbate in tub… completely unlike me…_  
(He saw her blush deepen to scarlet)  
_S and L were at nexus trying to warn of Michael's plans. Could neither see nor hear them. Could only touch._

_Fourth night__—Drugged via IV…somehow woke up, apparated to wellspring, where… …Severus was waiting?! _

_Occasionally feel 'presence(s)' surrounding me…_

She put the ballpoint pen she held up to her bottom lip, and tapping the plump flesh slightly as she read over what she had written, Lucius ghosted her cheek with the backs of his fingertips.

Her eyes widened in comprehension.

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MERLIN'S SAGGY BALLSACK! THEY WERE STILL WITH HER!

Hermione's face flushed with disbelief followed closely on its heels by humiliation and shame.

Oh, her behavior! The cigarette, the cursing. She had stripped naked and went prancing around her hotel room for Merlin's sake!

Burying her head in her hands on the tabletop, Hermione groaned.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to look back over the list she'd made as if it held the answers she sought, but it only served to confuse her more. _Why would they follow her on holiday in the first place…? It made no sense. _

Her brow wrinkled in thought. _That was… unless they knew about Michael beforehand…_ She shook her head immediately discounting the notion.

_No. They wouldn't risk the destruction of the entire wizarding world just to entrap him like that, especially as restricted as their magical capabilities seemed to now be. If they knew about him beforehand, then they would have killed him had they been able. And they would have immediately known of his plans as they could have read his mind. _

_Whatever they did to themselves had to have come before they met him, so… they had to have some ulterior motive before this entire debacle began. _

_Just what in the hell could it have been?!_

Again, she scanned the list, her eyes honing in on the items she had under 'strange occurrences'. Many of those entries held sexual overtones; things that made her blush to think about in the light of day, let alone write out.

_And shadowing her as they were, Severus and Lucius had been privy to all of that! _At this realization, her face grew ten shades of red, and she bit her lip as she once again looked over the list. Michael's and her mad make-out session, her wet drea—her masturbation!

_Gods! Why would they do this to her?! WHY?!_

The only thought that made the slightest bit of sense for them accompanying her on holiday was their penchant for wanting to keep tabs on her. And that seemed a bit of a stretch considering the extraordinary lengths to which they'd gone in order to ensure their privacy at not being caught spying…

…_Spying_.

Why would two former double-agents decide to come on holiday with her for the purposes of spying…?

Hermione's face lost what color it held as she thought about it. If they hadn't known about Michael beforehand… if they hadn't known of his plans for her… then this was a 'holiday' for them as well. What was it Lucius had told Daphne: 'it was about time we all had a break from working like house elves…' And she couldn't use any of her five senses to know they were there. Almost total secrecy so that they could _spy_ on her.

Did they find themselves bored with the work they were doing and in need of a little diversion? Was her life just a game to them? Was she just an amusement?

And as she thought on it, it sounded _exactly_ like something a Slytherin would do for holiday sport. Especially the two Master Slytherins she'd thought she'd known so well.

Had it amused them to watch her acting smitten, being duped and lied to, being betrayed?

_Oh, but more fool she!_

After all, her holiday held it all: danger, intrigue, a shade or two of voyeurism. That's what Lucius's smirk had been about when she told them of her plans. He had been planning this all along! And if this week had progressed normally— without the plot to end the wizarding world as she knew it— she would still have no clue, be none the wiser to their being there with her.

Had they no sense of honor? No common decency?

Again, Hermione snorted, the noise itself sounding very close to a sob.

_Among themselves? Of course._

_For her? Of course not. She was fair game and always had been. _

The Slytherin code of honor amongst themselves didn't apply to her and never had. It was not a Slytherin's way for them to treat her—a muggle-born Gryffindor— with honor or even 'common decency' for _she_ was not a Slytherin, a Pureblood, or even half-blood and never would she be.

_My gods! Michael had been right!_

They were two retired Death Eater spies looking for a bit of excitement. And it made it so much the better that they were able to interrupt a plan to destroy the wizarding world.

All so much better for them to feel superior in their spying abilities and justified in their reasoning for choosing to do so in the first place. After all, it was now more than abundantly clear that _her_ judgment couldn't be trusted. That _she_ couldn't be trusted.

And after all these years spent working with them, was that all her hard work and effort had amounted to?

_A bit of sport and fun?_

A heart-wrenching sob escaped her, and she cried out, literally clapping a hand over her mouth to stop the tortured sound.

After all, she was not alone in a place where the expectation for privacy should have been given and met. She was not alone and perhaps never had she been in this hotel room she thought of as her own.

_Never take anything for granted, right Hermione?_ Wasn't that what her years of interacting with Slytherins had taught her?_ To never take anything for granted. EVER!_

A surge of anger overpowered any other thought as she remembered her recent feelings of embarrassment. Why should she feel embarrassed? Why? This was her gods-damned hotel room after all, and they were encroaching on her space… her privacy… her thoughts… _**her very life**_**! **

She addressed the room at large, her anger only just kept in check. "You're both still here with me, aren't you? That's how you knew about Michael and his plans for me… You've been spying on me from the start." She gave a watery chuckle as she shook her head. "Oh, this just tops it! This just fucking tops it!"

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Severus watched from his position in the wingback chair as that heartrending sound broke from her.

Oh, he could see it in her eyes. She was doing the math. Two and two, and his little witch was coming up with five! AND THERE WAS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, NOTHING AT ALL HE COULD DO ABOUT IT! He rose and made his way to stand on the other side of her with Lucius facing him.

She banished her breakfast with an angry flourish of her wand, and placing her hands wide on the table, rose from her seat, staring grimly ahead.

"Am I allowed nothing?" she growled addressing them. "Nothing left after this week? Not even my dignity?!" She again flicked her wand and the package of cigarettes came sailing towards her. Catching them, she drew one out of the pack and lit it.

Closing her eyes, she drew a ragged breath and exhaled the bluish smoke as she said in a tone Severus had never heard before, "I suppose I should thank you both. After all, I _am_ still a witch due solely to your interference." She gave a derisive chuckle. "But then, in light of recent revelations made me, well..." She looked down at her wand with loathing, and shrugging, turned away from it and them to face the open window.

And this was yet another facet of Ms. Hermione Granger that Severus been unaware had existed.

She continued, "Now, one would say I owe you both a great debt. And if there's one thing I do, gentlemen, it's pay my debts. So I ask you, just what the hell do you want from me?"

"Dear gods, Severus!" Lucius shook his head from beside her. "The gel thinks of herself _and us_ in the worst possible light."

"And just what did you expect when you thought of this little scheme of yours in the first place, hmm?" Severus retorted acidly, filled with anger himself at the situation, at the man beside him, at himself! But not at her. No, never at her. "She is mentally exhausted and physically wrung out. Of course she's going to jump to the wrong conclusions! After all, she has absolutely no one to explain it to her."

"I know, brother." Lucius murmured quietly, reaching over and grasping his shoulder. The gray-eyed wizard gave him a level and pained look. "I know."

They both watched as she took another drag and quickly blew the smoke away.

"Well," she continued, "I certainly don't know your motivations, and even after working with you both for almost a decade, I still don't understand half of what you do. But at this point, it hardly seems to matter…" She gave another of those horrible, self-derisive sounds. "After all, between the two of you and Michael, I have been well and truly fucked, have I not? That was a rhetorical question, gentlemen; please don't bother answering for I can't hear you anyways."

She took another drag.

"Lucius," she turned her face to where he stood, and Severus started. Even in the state she was in, some part of her could still sense them, was still to some extent aware of their presence even if _she_ remained unaware of that fact. "You told Daphne that the office would resume business as usual on Monday. Therefore, whatever you've done to yourselves must have a time limit placed on it that probably coincides with the end of my holiday. Correct?"

She nodded to herself.

With a flick of her wand, Hermione transfigured an ashtray and summoned her agenda from her beaded bag, and Severus watched as pages upon pages flew open to spread themselves as she stood before them. They kept expanding and unfolding bigger and bigger until they encompassed the entire length of the table.

A murmured incantation had the schedule for the following week written in bold gold letters rising from the page and appearing like a screen in front of her. He looked at her askance. That had been a very tricky and complex bit of spell-work she just wove.

He watched as she systematically began crossing things off, striking things out for the next week, and then the next month as well.

Another murmured incantation, and the progress reports, lab findings, product placements, and earnings statements appeared, in addition to the fundraisers, benefits, and dinners they were attending and hosting for the next few months. By the time she was done, she had surrounded herself in a golden web of the company the three of them had built together, and Severus looked over his shoulder to see Lucius with a similar glazed expression reflected on his face.

He'd had no idea just how thoroughly in-depth and immersed she was with _every_ aspect of their business, and as he watched, she began to systematically strike and pool things together, deleting and displacing others so that things were quite rearranged from what they once were.

Murmuring an incantation and performing a complex wand movement, she laid her wand down and began moving her fingers as if typing…but she was doing so on air, and Severus raised his eyebrows. Yet another tricky bit of magic he had never seen performed.

She brought up a tab from her agenda in gold, and as Severus looked closer, he realized it was her file—her contributions and experiments ongoing with Lux Aeterna. He tried to read what she had typed, but it all seemed to be in some kind of scripted code.

A small golden rectangle flashed besides the text: 'format all files under C:\HGranger. Continue?'

He had no idea what a 'format all files under C:\HGranger. Continue?' did, but he was very much afraid he wouldn't like it when he found out.

She pursed her lips and put her head in her hands, rubbing viciously at her temples. He looked over to find Lucius hovering near her, inches from reaching out to touch her, and Severus had the good sense to grab his hand just as he would have done so.

Severus shook his head. "You remember her reaction when I tried to comfort her when she was angry with me. Don't push it _or_ her. She doesn't want our comfort. And it may just send her careening over the edge of whatever precipice she's climbed out on." He nodded to the gold lettering in front of him. "It feels ominous, this 'format all files'. I don't know what she intends with it, but I'm telling you, we do not need to push her. She's just unhinged enough to take this leap."

Taking a deep, calming breath, she looked up and opening her eyes, seemed to come to a decision. "I _am_ on holiday." She smiled sadly with a tinge of regret. "No thinking about work while on holiday, right Hermione, my girl?"

Severus raised his eyebrows again and looked over to Lucius to gauge his reaction. He wore a pained expression on his face, and Severus knew he wanted to reach out to her, to comfort her in any way he could.

"Besides, I doubt either one of you have ever been treated to a _muggle_ holiday before…especially one Granger-style as my dad would say…" She laughed bitterly. "Or rather _would have said_."

Again picking up the forgotten cigarette, she sucked the last of its smoke into her lungs and blew it out. "After all, gentlemen, they say it's not the destination that matters. It's the journey to get there."

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_**A/N:**_ Oh, dear. Does anybody know computer code?! Gods?! What is Hermione thinking?

…is she thinking at all? hmm… and what might she have planned for our two ba-ad boys?

Another update posting soon. Keep watch, dear readers.

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	27. The Song that Never Ends

Ch. 27— The Song that Never Ends

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"Here's the key, little lady. Are you sure you know what to do with all that horse power? Them Maseratis are sure quick."

Lucius watched Hermione as she signed the last of the paperwork and reached blindly for the keys the odious man held all without saying another word. She pressed a button and the sleek, little black motor carriage made a beeping sound, its head beams flashing momentarily.

Both he and Severus situated themselves inside: Severus in the front passenger seat and Lucius behind her as they watched her slide behind the wheel. She wore her usual weekend costume of t-shirt, jeans, and her boots. Her hair, however, was scraped back into an untidy bun at her nape.

She looked… militant. It was the only word Lucius had found to describe her expression. She was determined and unwavering in her resolve. And that chin of hers was set at a belligerent angle.

How Lucius wished he could touch her again! Just to draw her to him and comfort her! To tell her that everything would right…that she would be alright. That their reasoning was not as it seemed!

It was jarring –this non-tangible existence of theirs. To be reminded once again that they could walk through walls at will, that they could no longer touch and be touched save for themselves and each other. That they could not even attempt to 'touch' her, not even to offer what phantom's comfort they could because there was no telling if she would lash out unpredictably or not.

She started the motor, and Lucius actually heard it give an idling purr so unlike the previous conveyance she drove. She fastened the safety strap securely across her front and middle and also adjusted the mirrors.

And then shifting into gear, she flew off like a shot, leaving the odious man in the cheap muggle suit in a cloud of dust behind her.

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They had been driving for less than forty minutes, and Hermione had already made it through the 'Tail of the Dragon' and out to a major causeway, shattering her previous record of fourteen minutes, forty-six seconds by four and a half minutes. Severus closed his eyes and grit his jaw the entire time, praying to whatever god would listen for her safety. Lucius, too, had been on the edge of his seat, eyes ever watchful, and jaw clenched.

Hermione had driven with exacting, single-minded precision, and now that they were off that damned road and seemed to be headed at a steady clip, Severus took the time to study her.

He could not see what thoughts were traipsing through her mind, he would need legilimency for that. But he could see them churning restless in her eyes, heaps upon heaps of roiling thought and emotion, and how he wished she would sleep so that he could help ease and quiet her mind as he did before.

That was provided, of course, if she would even _let_ him do that for her.

He had resigned himself to staying in this intangible state until the spell's completion Sunday night. She knew of their presence, but Severus wouldn't want to go back, not with how she reacted to the truth. It wasn't that he didn't want to face her. But that she would have to accept the both of them in her bed, and Severus knew that she wasn't ready for that, and when it came right down to it, she may not ever be.

And that was okay.

He could understand it. It hurt, but he could understand.

Unfortunately, however, in the incubus-state he was in, Severus did feel the lack of 'food' for want of a better word.

He had been within the realm of her dreams last night, but he had not fed from them. His occlumency shields had been on full during her drugged state. Lucius had been following the muggle bastard, and so neither of them had been able to feed from her dreams.

And Severus could feel the lack.

It wasn't so much a gnawing in the pit of his stomach as a general feeling of discontent. He neither hungered nor thirsted, but what he wanted, he couldn't have. And the way things were looking, having channeled as much power as she did, they would be lucky if she slept at all in the next few days.

Literally, he had to stop himself from reaching out and touching some part of her. Lucius as well, was also having the same problem, even going so far as clutching his hands together in front of him to keep himself from doing so.

Severus eyed the speedometer warily.

She was doing well over one hundred and forty kilometers per hour, and from the single-minded way she was weaving in and out of traffic, never once slowing down, Severus could only surmise that she was internally working through her emotions… or more likely, running away from them.

For him, it was the intricacy of brewing. For her, it seemed, it was the open road.

As he watched, her expression shifted, her face morphing into a bitter, cynical smile. It chilled him. What could she be planning?

Soon, they were pulling off the highway and into a petrol station. She grabbed her beaded bag and summoned one of her muggle devices to her as well as a plastic cord that she plugged in to both the device she held and the car's stereo system. Severus looked closer at the thing that read 'Aux in'.

"Now, I did tell you both that this was going to be a Granger Family Holiday." She lit up another cigarette and blew smoke out the open car window. "And the first thing you've got to understand is that you can't have a road trip without a little music. But before I get to that, I think I should give you both a bit of background on my dad." She smiled softly, and Severus could tell from her expression that what she was about to relate was a happy memory for her.

He looked back to find Lucius listening with rapt attention.

"You see dad was an avid music buff; he loved his singers and songwriters, his hard and soft rock especially of the seventies and eighties. Now, I doubt either of you took the time to listen to some of the muggle music of your generation. After all, I believe you both were a bit preoccupied at the time plotting global domination and committing acts of mayhem, murder, and treason, but—"

She shrugged philosophically and took a drag, "I digress. The muggle music of the seventies, eighties, and even some early nineties was what my dad would have termed 'bitchin'. He was a huge fan of bands like Journey, The Eagles, Twisted Sister, Alice Cooper, David Bowie, Queen… all of them." She smiled fondly. "In fact, the first ten years of my life were a formal education to the 'School of Rock' as my father phrased it, and he kept the momentum going through summer hols when I would return to stay with them."

She smiled sadly and looked down at the cigarette she held. Wincing, she banished it away with an absent wave of her wand, dispelling the smoke so the air was clear and odorless once more. She continued, "My parents never did let me sleep in much; in fact, not once when I returned home for summer break. There was just too much to do, share, and explore, and too little time in which to do it.

"You see, they felt the time we had together was precious and filled the days they had with me accordingly." Swallowing thickly, she looked up and drew a jagged, deep breath. "And so, when I was home, my father would play this song in order to wake me up each and every morning, and I, gentlemen, would be _honored_ to pass this little Granger Family Tradition on to you…" She smiled significantly and pressed a button on the muggle device she held.

Loud, blaring synthesized guitar music began wailing from the speakers in an obnoxious chord that repeated over and over again.

An insufferable voice began singing over the earsplitting racket of false instrumentation… and the lyrics were ridiculous. Severus looked over to find Ms. Granger singing along merrily with the detestable song, drumming her fingers on the steering column and swaying back and forth where she sat in the driver's seat.

Looking behind him, he saw Lucius had a startled, horrified expression on his face, his eyelid cringing with every downbeat of bass.

Severus did not envy him his backseat position.

The song finally ended, —FINALLY!— and she smiled that innocent smile of hers. "Ah, me. memories… but you know what, gentlemen, …it occurred to me…never did my father play that song just once for me to wake up to it. Dad was a _big_ believer in the merits of the repeat button, and sometimes, it took two or three repeats of the song before I could rouse myself to get up out of bed and turn the damn thing off, so…"

She once again reached into her beaded bag and this time, pulled out a pair of earmuffs… the very same as Pomona Sprout would wear when dealing with the Mandrakes. "And so, it is in this spirit we shall embark…" She pressed a button on the muggle audio device, and the car blared with synthesized music once more. She ratcheted up the volume even further. Middle fingers fully extended in the air, she adjusted the earmuffs to fit her ears, and then tapped them with her wand, performing a 'muffliato' charm.

Oh, the cheek! Using his own gods-damned charm against him!

Witch.

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_Three hours later…_

"We can dance if want to, we can leave your friends behind. 'Cause your friends don't dance, and if they don't dance, well they're no friends of mine. Say-hey. We can go… Say Severus! I'm thinking we really _can_ dance if we want to." Lucius yelled from the backseat of the car at him. "This song is filled with sage advice." He nodded to himself and kept on singing. "—place where they will never find. And we can act like we come from out of this world. Leave the real one far behind."

About two and a half hours into this little impromptu torture session administered by the ear-muffed, pint-sized sadist to his left, Severus heard Lucius crack and begin to sing along to the song.

The both of them had tried occlumency.

Had tried… and failed.

The thrumming beat was all too loud and pervasive, too interchangeable, and Severus could actually feel it rattling the backs of his teeth.

Neither of them could occlude against it.

He looked askance at the little witch beside him, and not for the first time thanked Merlin she had been working on the side of the Light. For Hermione Granger had finally found something for which Severus Snape could not occlude against.

In a way, he could almost admire it… that was, if he wasn't going to kill her first once he regained his corporeal form…

Meanwhile from the backseat…

"S – A – F – E – T – Y …SAFETY…DANCE!"

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_**A/N:**_ I think they're deserving of a little auditory torture for the hell they put her through? Who's with me?

The song is _The_ _Safety Dance_ by Men Without Hats. Honorable Mention should go to marianna79 for giving me the title for this chapter in her review. Thank you, Marianna!

And thank you all. I will be catching up on reviews today. (bad authoress!) And I should have a new chapter in the offing soon.

Keep watch,

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	28. Driver Picks the Music, Shotgun

Ch. 28— Driver Picks the Music, Shotgun Shuts His Cakehole

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Hermione was headed north, destination: New York City.

It had been three and half hours since she had begun this little exercise in torturous revenge for her hapless passengers, and she would be very surprised if they were still with her. After all, she had put on the gods-awful song to torment them, to convince them to leave her alone, figuring they could obviously see and hear everything going on around them.

While driving, she had forced herself to occlude the thoughts and emotions she felt concerning Michael, Severus, and Lucius. This was her holiday, dammit! _Hers._ There would be time enough to fall apart after she returned to London and took stock of the mess her life had become.

This did not mean, however, that she could not exercise a petty form of revenge. And since she couldn't touch them, and they couldn't touch her or anything else for that matter, and so, she had to get creative.

Her goal had been to make it as intolerable to be around her company as possible to be. And from the way things looked—or rather _felt_— she had succeeded.

At least, she thought she did.

But then, she couldn't really tell, could she? For she couldn't sense them at all with any of her five senses. Sinister, spying bastards!

She tried to reach out with that 'other' sense—the sixth one she had never really believed existed.

It was ridiculous. She felt nothing.

Looking down at her petrol gauge, and noticing it low, Hermione pulled off at the next available off-ramp and rolled to a stop at the light. She had an urge to turn the music down, especially when a group of college-aged boys pulled up alongside her in a shiny red convertible. She still had her driver-side window down, and they waved and blew their horn to get her attention. Feeling patently ridiculous wearing earmuffs while Men without Hats blared openly from her speakers for all and the sundry to hear, she gunned it once the light turned green, leaving them in her dust.

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"Severus, what in Merlin's name is a Cheetos? It looks vile."

Lucius watched as Hermione crunched into another brilliant-hued orange stick, munching on it, and he leaned in closer to examine the little orange club-looking crisps she held. He took a sniff at one before she popped it into her mouth. "Gods, Hermione! That's not even food, witch!"

Still, on she munched, unabashedly washing the glop down with the giant-sized muggle beverage she had purchased, something called 'Mountain Dew'.

Lucius had made sure to take the passenger seat this go around when they had stopped. Both he and Severus had gotten out and stretched their legs while Hermione filled her motor car with the petrol and went to use the facilities.

She came back with a brown paper sack which she had placed in the passenger's seat, and Lucius was just petty enough to get a small thrill every time she had to reach through him to rifle through its contents. Thus far, the only thing he could see was junk and certainly not anything _he_ would deem as edible.

She fiddled once more with the muggle sound-making device in her hand, and Lucius eyed it warily. Gods! Not that accursed song again! It was going to be days before he'd get it out of his head!

But remarkably, she didn't start the song; instead, another smoother and more soothing took its place as she began to drive, this time at a slower, saner pace.

Lucius glanced behind him to find Severus studying Hermione through the top-most mirror near the roof.

He had an air of deep concentration, as if he was trying to piece the girl apart much as he would a finicky potion. It was remarkable to see the darker wizard take an interest in something other than the contents of a flask or steaming cauldron, and Lucius was very grateful for it. After all, Lily Evans' memory aside, Lucius always knew the witch that stole Severus's heart was bound to be extraordinary. And Hermione was that.

And they had almost lost her. _Still might_ once it came down to it.

She felt betrayed, abandoned, wronged. And she was most certainly all of that and more.

But did she blame the actual culprits for it? No. Lucius could tell she was internalizing most of what she felt. Blaming _herself_.

And this was another reason why Hermione and his estranged wife were so unalike. No self-respecting Slytherin woman would dare take any of the blame for the fiasco that had just occurred in the forest.

And too, a Slytherin woman would also see Severus's and Lucius's presence with her while on her holiday —and the actions that subsequently followed— exactly for what they were: as the indirect sexual overture it was.

But Hermione did not think like a Slytherin woman.

She never had and she never would— _never could_ if it came down to it.

And that's why Lucius loved her…

Except for occasions such as these when the truth was right in front of her very eyes, written plain as day on that damned list of hers, and she didn't know herself, couldn't trust herself enough to believe it.

The thought of them pursuing her had never even occurred to her.

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Through the rear-view mirror, Severus watched the little witch's lips move in time to the music that played. He was exceedingly grateful she had relented in her auditory torture, and it was interesting the songs she chose to play—or rather that she allowed to be played through the muggle device…

And even as he watched, she turned up the volume and began to sing along to one of them.

Paying close attention to the lyrics, Severus realized for as much as the song now playing was one of maturity and accepting the mantle of adulthood, it could also be interpreted as a critique for her on her magical-muggle upbringing. And this song, in conjunction with others that she had unwittingly played for them were telling indeed.

Oh, she was flaying herself alright, his little masochist! Tearing herself apart because of the bastard's words, because they tore at wounds Severus was sure she thought long-healed. The bastard had called into question everything, every single aspect she thought she knew about herself, and it was a rare person who could take that kind of 'brutal honesty' as the bastard had so phrased it without flinching.

It wasn't as if what he had said had been inaccurate, far from it. But it _had_ been one-sided, single-minded. It took everything she had done both during the war and after it and put it into the most demeaned and negative light possible, and she… well, she was just young and inexperienced enough not to be able to apply a little perspective to her actions, to see them in actuality for what they were.

He had his work cut out for himself.

Of course, that was if she allowed him to do so. Which right now seemed to be a big 'if'. As he watched, the song changed yet again, and she flipped through a succession of them before finally settling on another.

Yes, he had his work cut out indeed.

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"Damned throttling Pandora." Hermione pressed the 'skip' button again on her iPhone to no avail. She was stuck for the next hour listening to whatever internet radio service Pandora thought suited her tastes. She hated the fucking program, but she was too cheap to subscribe, and really, it wasn't so bad… except for times such as these when she was stuck listening to absolute SHITE!

'_Karma-karma-karma-karma-karma-Chameleon…you come and go…you come and go-oh-oh-OH!_' The song continued to play as she stewed. She hated this song!

Finally it ended, only to be replaced with… "Oh, you are absolutely not playing that, you cunt-bag bitch!" _Especially if Severus and Lucius were still with her._ Hermione jabbed the skip button hopefully and wonder of wonders, it did it! ... only to land on one even worse than Heart's _Magic Man._

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!"

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Both Severus and Lucius studied her curiously.

Whatever this Pandora thing was she was fixated on was earning her ire most assuredly.

Lucius cocked an eyebrow as he watched her violently mash the device she held all the while cursing the damn thing to hell and back. He looked at the display on the stereo and read 'Magic Man, Heart.' It didn't take a Mastery in Divination to see why she didn't want that particular song played, especially as the lyrics '_A pretty man came to me. Never seen eyes so blue. I could not run away. It seemed we'd seen each other in a dream_…' began to play.

The next song, however, caused her to blush furiously.

Quickly, Lucius examined the title before she could change it. It appeared scrolling across the small display, and Lucius's eyes widened as he read it. She reached for the nob-like device, wrenching it, trying to turn it down, but he automatically held up a restraining hand, forgetting for the moment his incorporeal state. His hand went right through hers of course, but she paused for just a moment, hesitating. Long enough, Lucius hoped, for the song's lyrics to start so he could hear them.

Something told him this was important.

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Watching Lucius touch her, literally stay her hand, Severus leaned forward. And reaching out, ghosted his fingertips along her shoulder, and then across the line of her exposed neck, watching as she stared ahead, her jaw grit tight.

He looked into the rear view mirror at her eyes and found panic there, fear as well.

She didn't turn the song off, and Severus kept his phantom's contact with her, increasing it as much as he could by placing his other hand through the headrest to ghost into her mop of curls. Slowly, she eased her head back against the seat. Lucius likewise intimated that she should lower her hand from the nob controlling the volume so they could all of them listen.

She did so by degrees, slowly following where Lucius's hand led until hers rested on the console between them, and Lucius had 'hold' of her hand. The both of them studied her intently as she drove and the music continued to play.

The man began to sing, and Severus kept his body as close to hers as possible for such a ridiculous circumstance and setting as this.

'_Sometimes I think that you'll never understand me. But something tells me together, we'd be happy_.' The singer earnestly professed, and as the song progressed, Severus realized why she did not want this particular song played while both he and Lucius were there with her.

The song was about the love of an older, more experienced man for a much younger woman. And the man was trying to convince her to trust his feelings for her and trust her own—that their love was sacred, true, and beautiful in whatever embodiment it took.

And Severus absorbed the lyrics, likening to the ones that meant the singer wanted them to come together as equals, to stand naked and unabashed in one another's arms in acceptance and trust, to understand one another through devotion and love.

He quickly glanced at Lucius to gauge his reaction to this newest development. The blond wizard had eyes only for the little witch, Lucius's own filled with solemn desire as well as understanding.

The man singing wanted to shower the young woman with affection and give her his world; to consider heaven '_a kiss and a smile_' in return for all he was going to give her. Resuming his mirror study of Hermione's expression, Severus focused this time on her eyes: the vulnerability that shown as the song continued to play. And that expressive honesty that he so loved about her, that honesty which got her into so much trouble with his Slytherins, was right there in her eyes for him to discern.

She was fully exposed to them now, and Severus could see this song resonate with her on an intimate level, and he felt himself resonating with it as well.

How he would love to be able to do whatever necessary to make her happy and please her, including fulfilling her every need and fantasy, just as the singer proclaimed. To show her that their love was still pure and true if what she needed most was someone to guide and mentor her, to teach, accept, and nurture her, to make her feel safe, cherished, and secure ' '_til the end of time_'.

This was what Hermione wanted, what she needed them to be. This was the role she needed fulfilled.

Severus could do that. He could be that for her!

He and Lucius could definitely be that for her and more.

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_**A/N:**_ How I've debated back and forth about telling you what song Hermione was listening to, dear readers! And it's not because I want you to guess, far from it. It's just… the song is very… controversial.

It's George Michael's _Father Figure_. There, I've written it. I can't take it back. :D

If you haven't guessed already by my chapter headings, I use a lot of music and popular culture of the 70's-90's to 'theme' the chapter I'm working on. And so, it is in this spirit I shall include the playlist that helped me write this chapter:

The Logical Song….Supertramp

Walking on Broken Glass…..Annie Lennox

Her Diamonds…..Rob Thomas

Leave Me Alone…..Michael Jackson

I'm So Afraid…..Fleetwood Mac

Why…..Annie Lennox

Karma Chameleon…..Culture Club

Magic Man…..Heart

(and of course) Father Figure…..George Michael

More soon, dear readers. Keep watch!

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	29. New York State of Mind

Ch. 29— New York State of Mind

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The playing of the song marked a distinct change in mood as the three of them continued their journey onward.

Her anger, it seemed, had lessened considerably.

Lucius had not relinquished 'hold' of her hand, and in point of fact, turned himself so he could have both hands on some part of her. Severus, too, had not given up the 'cradling' of the back of her head and the ethereal caress of her neck.

As Lucius watched, she sighed, and turned more fully into both sets of their hands. And Lucius closed his eyes in thankfulness.

The gel knew they were there, that was true, but she still seemed yet unaware they were so close to her, 'touching' her. However, instead of their phantoms' touch instinctively feeling threatening as Severus had feared; it now appeared to give her peace.

Lucius looked for any signs the gel could be tiring. And thus far, there were none.

In fact, she seemed as dewy-eyed and fresh-faced as she had as if she'd awoken from a full night's rest. And not counting the sleep of her drugged state or the brief dreamless nap that followed after, the gel had been up for nigh on thirty-six hours and very well could be up another thirty-six more.

Now how well Lucius understood this state they were in could be construed as a curse for all parties involved.

When he had told Severus about the Incubus Curse, he did not disclose that the spell could be cast upon a victim as well. It worked both ways, and as Lucius had told him seemingly so long ago: 'it was all a matter of intent.'

There was the spell that one could cast upon oneself—and this was what both Severus and Lucius had intended to use. However, if the spell was cast on a wizard that had not chosen someone on which to 'feed', then the wizard would literally waste away before the seventh day of the spell's expiration. Depending on the wizard's intent, the spell could be used as a means of making a literal ghost before the victim succumbs to death and becomes a proverbial one.

After all, a man could live without food for thirty days. But water?

Dehydration had been known to kill in less than three.

And though, while in this non-corporeal state, they needed no food or water, they did need _her_… Hermione was their oxygen, their lifes' blood. They needed to share her thoughts, her dreams nightly in order to keep themselves alive. He didn't want to worry Severus, but their situation was a grave one.

This spell—this curse— could kill them.

And if she didn't dream, didn't sleep… Lucius closed his eyes and grit his jaw. Never in his wildest imaginings had he thought this would be the case.

He moved closer to her still.

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What feeling had come over her, Hermione wondered, not for the first time since she had let that song play: the one she had wanted to stop from playing upon pain of death in case Lucius and Severus were still with her? But she hadn't stopped it. Something held her back. And she realized that since she had played it, a feeling of comfort had come over her.

And it was comfort. Plain and simple.

She was feeling reassured and supported. But these emotions were out of the blue. They weren't coming from _her_. It didn't make sense.

But then, nothing seemed to make sense in the last week.

Could Lucius and Severus still be with her… somehow trying to comfort her?! The thought came suddenly, and she tried to dismiss it. After all, the Lucius and Severus that she knew were each in their own right _not_ comforting types. After the torture she had put them through, she expected them to be gone.

But the thought just wouldn't leave.

They were still with her. Somehow, she knew it for certain. They were still choosing to be with her! And they were the ones providing the feelings of comfort—of peace— that she was experiencing. _They were trying to comfort her._

Taking a deep breath, Hermione slowly let it out, allowing herself to relax, feeling a semblance of calm for the first time since her world had been so thoroughly shaken apart. And Lucius and Severus were the ones convincing her to feel this way.

The drive had done its job of helping to clear her muddled thoughts.

Well, that _and_ the occlusion she had practiced.

She still had two and a half days before she needed to be home, before she needed to confront the reality her life had become. And in those two and a half days, she was going to live and enjoy the rest of her holiday without shame or self-examination. After all, she would most certainly give herself enough of that upon her return.

So deciding, Hermione assessed her choices.

She could continue to drive for the next five hours, hitting heavy traffic along the way from Washington D.C to Baltimore, then Philadelphia to New York, _or_ she could pull over to a nice, secluded spot, apparate, and be in New York City in less than a second.

It was a no-brainer.

Hermione quickly pulled off the next exit, which fortunately was in some tiny, backwater town in middle of nowhere. Even the gas station was derelict, having an air of abandoned neglect. Parking behind the building and making sure no one was about, she got out and performed a shrinking charm on the car, reducing the beautiful Maserati until it was the size and weight of a Matchbox car.

And fetching from within her beaded bag the strongbox that had formerly housed her cigarettes, she transfigured the lining to be plush crushed velvet and added a cushioning charm for good measure. With her wand, she carefully levitated her little toy and situated it now in its cushioned box.

She had a moment of panic thinking that she had reduced Severus and Lucius as well.

And then, of course, it would only serve them right for their behavior towards her…

But calming her mind and emotions, Hermione reached out with that sixth sense she was just coming to realize she possessed concerning them and noticed that feeling of calm peace surround her once more. She knew the two of them were near, perhaps even 'touching' her in some way. And she guessed that since they seemed to stay with her each time after she apparated that this would again be the case.

Clutching her wand to her, she thought of where she wanted to go, and with a small 'pop', vanished.

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Severus stood close to her, and he glanced up to see Lucius with a panicked look in his eye, while the muggles surrounding them gawked at Hermione strangely.

She had apparated them to a very congested area, and looking around, Severus tried to get a sense for their bearings. Catching a hint of unfamiliar accents around him, he realized she had apparated them to New York City: the largest city in the United States.

"Stay close!" Severus barked, grabbing for Lucius's collar as she began to walk away, quickly getting lost in the mélange of muggles surrounding them. Lucius had probably never been in such a nightmare congestion of muggles in his entire life! Hermione was doing a good job at navigating herself and not bumping into anyone, but Severus and Lucius were having a devil of a time, having to walk _through_ people in order to keep up with her. It made for a very uncomfortable, disorienting experience.

Unwittingly, or perhaps even nefariously planned, she had led them to Severus's version of what hell must surely be. He hated large cities and loathed crowds: the noise, the congestion, the gods-damned smells of the place. If she was still trying to punish them on her _muggle holiday_, well then she was succeeding marvelously.

Everywhere there was movement: people, cars, flashing signs on buildings all clamoring for attention! It was enough to make his head spin. Severus looked behind him, making sure Lucius was keeping close.

He was.

But whereas Severus was distinctly uncomfortable with the crowds, the crushing madness of humanity surrounding them, Lucius, after his paralyzing moment of disorientation, appeared to be enjoying himself immensely.

His eyes were everywhere, trying to absorb everything and anything he encountered. And Severus tried to look at it from his perspective.

The man had probably never once ventured into the depths of muggle London. Why would he have done? The wizarding world had quite shut itself away from the world of muggles, and Lucius's raising discouraged interaction between the two.

Whereas Severus, through lack of money and exposure, knew vaguely of city life as being dirty and congested, Lucius knew absolutely nothing of it at all. And for being so well-versed and well-traveled abroad to all the wizarding destinations of note, the world, it seemed, still held an element of mystery for the once jaded man.

Severus grinned to himself to see it, only wishing Hermione could witness it as well….

_Gods, Hermione!_

Quickly, he scanned the area for the little witch, dismayed when he realized he had lost—he saw her curly-haired form disappear around the corner almost a half a block ahead of them. Staying close to the pavements, Severus grabbed hold of Lucius's collar, and yanking, ran to catch up to her.

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Hermione smiled to herself as she sipped her latte. She had done it! She was in New York, specifically the isle of Manhattan. And it was fantastic!

Of all the cities that she had visited abroad with her parents, New York had never made the list. For although her Dad held a deep love for most American rock music, her parents had never desired to come to the States, preferring instead to tour locales with a more ancient flavor: Italy, Peru, South Africa, Greece, Turkey, and Switzerland.

And so, New York was all hers. _Her idea._ In fact, it didn't even hold the taint of having Michael near it. And so, she could be at peace, at rest here among the tall sky scrapers and constant noise and chaos.

She reached out with that 'sixth sense' of hers to 'see' if both Lucius and Severus had come along . But she could feel nothing. The atmosphere was too frantic, the noise too pervasive, and to quite put the point on it, she was far too keyed up to know if they were even around her or not.

She literally felt herself humming with the vital energy of the city around her.

It was bliss.

Whipping out her cell phone—like every other muggle that seemed to inhabit the place—she began typing with her thumbs, looking for a hotel based on location. She wanted one near Central Park... and she needed one tonight.

There was a hotel a few blocks from here, _the_ _Hôtel Plaza Athénée_ it was called, and she thought it would suit her purposes nicely, but the only trouble was the online service was booked. Well, it wouldn't hurt to go there and see if there was a last minute cancelation, and if there wasn't, then there was always the Holiday Inn.

So thinking, she took a last sip of her truly delicious latte and left, making her way through the hustle and bustling Friday afternoon crowd of New Yorkers going home after the end of a long work week.

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They walked three-abreast again, Severus and Lucius alongside her as she navigated the heavy foot-traffic.

Lucius marveled at her. She blended in so seamlessly with her surroundings, absolutely comfortable in them. And dressed as she was, she looked exactly like a native.

He was slightly disturbed to think that.

The young woman beside him was a witch… and not only a witch, but quite possibly the most intelligent and powerful witch he had ever come across. It was not just anyone that could create and wield a spell of that magnitude and strength as she did this morning.

And she looked full-on muggle.

Lucius was quickly learning that the wizarding world was a very small and isolated place compared to such droves as what surrounded them en masse.

In the sea of muggles amidst them, she did not stand out one bit, and this troubled him for perhaps the muggle filth had been right? Would she be happier as a muggle? Lucius studied her in profile as they walked. Hermione's eyes were bright with excitement; there was an air of vitality about her now, and she looked completely at home in her element.

And he supposed there was an appeal to it, especially for one such as her.

In a city such as this, no one knew her.

No one cared who she was or what she did. And the anonymity of living in such a vast and clamoring place must appeal to her on a basic level. For well Lucius knew how much she hated being treated as a public figure, the wizarding world's 'Gryffindor Princess' as the tattered rag _Witch Weekly_ had dubbed her.

And how they had deified and slandered her name over the years!

Yes. Anonymity would definitely appeal to one such as her. And she was smart and able-bodied enough to walk away from the magical community and make a success in a place like this New York.

Smart enough indeed.

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"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we are currently booking two months in advance."

Severus heard Hermione give a small sigh, and shake her head. "That's alright. It was a long-shot as it was, but I just wanted to check and se—"

"Really, it's ridiculous!" A woman insinuated herself ahead of Hermione as she was standing at the counter, pointedly looking down her nose at her, and then turned to face the clerk. Severus narrowed his eyes as the rude muggle woman began to speak, "I requested Gerolsteiner mineral water specifically be stocked in my room and none but Perrier is to be had. Not to mention the room is facing Southside. I clearly requested east-side facing only. I _demand_ to speak to the Concierge. After all, with how much I'm paying for this room and not to have it to my _exact_ specifications…" She barked a laugh. "It's an outrage!"

Severus studied the odious woman.

Done up and painted in gold from her brassy blond head to her over-bulging, gold-shod feet, the elderly muggle was one of those destined _never_ to be satisfied. He had a particular loathing for the type, having met his fair share during his tenure as both Hogwart's professor and Death Eater. People like her seemed to thrive on the creation of melodrama and the manufacturing of insult.

If only Severus were in his physical form…

Hermione thanked the attendant politely and turned to walk away. Severus caught Lucius's eye as they reluctantly followed.

Lucius shook his head. "She's too polite for her own good, Severus; that's what it comes down to. You or I would have put the odious muggle woman in her place but neatly—" Abruptly, Lucius stopped speaking as they watched Hermione duck behind a large potted fern and draw her wand.

Just what was the little witch doing?

And well Severus now knew that particular spell coming from this particular witch, and he watched as the gold-painted woman blinked dazedly and shook her head. "You know what? I think I'd get better service at the Holiday Inn Manhattan. I would like to check out… if you please." The 'please' seemed to be added as an afterthought.

Both Severus and Lucius looked down at the little witch before them with new eyes and watched as she quickly stowed her wand up her sleeve and stepped away from the potted fern. She blinked, looking around, the very picture of forlorn innocence.

Upon seeing her, the clerk behind the counter quickly rushed to her. "Miss…oh, miss! We've just had a cancellation," the young woman stated breathlessly, beaming at her.

Hermione started, looking aghast. "Really? Oh, that's wonderful! I'll take it!" Oh, but they were going to have to work on her reaction of 'fake surprise' if she was ever going to pass muster with a Slytherin.

The other woman laughed. "Splendid! It will be a couple of hours before the room is ready, though." The clerk pulled a face. "We have to clean and clear it of its last occupant," she said as she eyed the retreating figure of the gold whey-faced woman with distaste.

Hermione smiled and thanked her profusely.

"Anytime." The clerk said. "This is one instance I can genuinely say I am _happy_ to be of assistance."

Smiling, Hermione made her way outside of the Ladies Cloakroom, and making certain no one was about, she addressed them. "I know what you both are thinking; that it's an abuse of power, but come on! She really wasn't going to enjoy the room, and I most definitely am…so…" she bit her lip and shrugged. "I mean I'm only here for two days anyway, and that woman certainly looked like she could afford to stay wherever suited her fancy if all that tacky gold lamé is anything to go b—" Severus placed a finger to her lips, and wonder of wonders, she stopped talking.

Her eyes widened, and she gulped. "Right. Rambling." She licked her lips. "Errm, I'll just be a moment." Obviously shaken, she turned her back on them and opened the door.

Meanwhile, Lucius hitched a lone eyebrow as his eyes followed her retreating form. "Either she's getting more attune, or we're getting stronger in our presence."

Severus looked after the closed door, watching it, waiting for her expectantly. Even this little separation was causing him anxiety. He knew it was the edge of the 'hunger' he was experiencing, but the knowing still didn't stop the feeling from occurring. He replied absently, "I believe she is getting better at detecting us. I noticed it this morning that even when she was angry, when she addressed you, she turned towards you instinctively."

He saw Lucius gulp, the blond wizard's hands had balled into fists. And Severus knew it was taking everything for Lucius to stay right where he was and not follow her. He knew because Severus felt the same way. He tried to distract them both. "Still, she addressed us openly, Lucius, and that's the first time she's done so since the car ride this morning when she spoke of her father and that song."

_That_ got Lucius's attention. "That song, Severus! Oh, that _bloody_ song!"

Severus shrugged. "You're the one who professed it to be… what were your exact words…'full of sage advice'?

Severus watched Lucius's eyes narrow, preparing an acid reply when the door opened. "Quiet." Severus quickly ordered, "Here she comes."

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While in the lavatory, Hermione changed into her running clothes. Central Park was literally only a few blocks away, and since she had a couple hours to kill, she was going for a run. She shrank her bag until it was the size of a credit card and zipped it securely in the pocket of her pants. With her wand fastened to the inside of her forearm via a sticking charm that she could shake free should she need it, and hidden by the lightweight long-sleeved top she wore, she was ready to run.

She could have sworn she felt Severus's touch, his fingers on her lips just now. Never had she felt the man's hands on her more so than this week. But then, of course, he obviously couldn't use his tried and true methods of hexing her to silence or replying with an acid comment to get her to leave the room.

So the man had to resort to more _physical_ forms of communication.

Hermione blushed in remembrance and her heartbeat quickened. She had sat on the man's lap…while he talked to her and rocked her gently, soothed her when they were at the nexus. She pursed her lips and shook her head. _No, my girl. Not for you. Have you not learned your lesson?! No more men for you! Especially tall, dark, and spyingly sinister. _

Well, at any rate, it seemed her crush on her professor was not a thing of the past as she once thought. And it still had the potential to harm her…as this week had so amply proven. Besides, he could have been only trying to comfort her in preparation for dealing with Michael and their situation at hand. It might not have even had anything to do with her. After all, the both of them had made a mockery of her privacy, her thoughts—_DON'T THINK ABOUT IT!_ She scolded herself._ YOU'RE IN NEW YORK! ENJOY IT, AND GO FOR YOUR RUN!_

So deciding, Hermione occluded her thoughts, stuffing the emotions down deep, put in her earbuds, and turning her music up as loud as she could stand, made her way out of the hotel and towards the entrance to the park.

Oh, but she had always wanted to do this!

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Severus was going to die.

Expire.

Collapse.

Of exhaustion.

He panted.

And looked ahead of him.

Lucius was just barely keeping up with her as she ran.

Just barely.

And Severus was falling behind.

And oh, but she set a punishing pace.

He ran harder to catch up to her. He had to be near her.

He had to!

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The loop was six point one miles, and Hermione was trying to finish in three quarters an hour. It had been a long time since she had set such a goal for herself, and it felt good—damn good if she was honest. Oh, but the park was beautiful, and it felt great to be surrounded by others as driven and like-minded as she.

Briefly, she wondered if Severus or Lucius had accompanied her. She couldn't 'feel' them with her, and to her knowledge, neither man ran. But then again, she wouldn't really know, would she? Both appeared to be physically fit… so they must be doing something right. Looking down at her watch and then at the marker coming up, she poured on more speed.

It was going to be close.

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There was nothing like a younger woman to make Lucius Malfoy feel his age. Gods! But Hermione could run like the wind. He had no idea, none at all when he watched her on that damned machine.

Lucius looked behind him and only just caught the shadow of Severus in the background, trying to keep up with them—_with her_. He sincerely hoped her stamina had to do with her abundance of energy left after the nexus. If not, gods! It was going to take two of them—Lucius could most definitely see that now. It was going to take the both of them to satisfy the witch. For just one wouldn't do.

Not for Hermione Jean Granger.

Lucius's only encouraging thought on this death march of theirs was that maybe she would tire herself out, burn off her excess energy she felt, and sleep.

Gods, please let her sleep soon!

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"Those are gonna kill ya, ya know?"

Hermione looked up from the cigarette she just lit and deliberately took a drag. She watched as the stranger finished stretching from his run, and pulling out a cigarette himself, lit up.

For her, it was a congratulatory pat on the back. She had finished, shaving a minute ten off her best time.

"Hey, me? I like a woman who's a walkin' …or should I say _runnin' _contradiction. Puttin' herself through hell on the loop just to paint her lungs with tar." The stranger smiled at her wryly as he continued to smoke.

Smiling around the cigarette, she looked him over. His accent was pure New York, and he looked every bit the native New Yorker—tall, dark, a bit like he could trounce one in a fight. And she supposed he was cute enough in his own way… built as he was like Michael. At the thought, her eyes instantly narrowed to slits.

She shrugged. "We've all got to die some day," And taking a last drag of the cigarette she held, tossed it and out the butt.

His eyes widened. "Ah, God! But you're British! Gotta love the accent of a British girl! You girls can make anythin' sound classy and refined. Go ahead, say somethin' vulga." His eyes dared her.

Hermione laughed in spite of herself and shook her head. "Well, you obviously like women—"

"Love 'em, lady. Say, hows 'bout I treat you to dinna and a show in Little Italy. I know the sweetest little Italian join—"

She held up her hand, heading him off at the pass and shook her head. "As I was saying, it's obvious you like women… _and so do I_." She grinned toothily , wagging her eyebrows. "What's the old adage: the area between a lady's arse and her quim is a chin rest?"

Smiling, she gave him a three-fingered salute and ran on to his startled bark of laughter.

She heard him yell after her, "I'm in love with ya, lady!

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"Severus, we're going to have to do something. This can't go on."

Lucius was currently lying prone, listening intently as Hermione finished getting ready for her evening out. They were situated in a posh suite with luxurious muggle amenities—even better than that of the last hotel. But the suite's primary feature was the gloriously decadent bed standing floor center before the floor to ceiling view of the skyline below.

It was the bed that Hermione would not be using any time soon.

Severus had caught up to them just as the muggle in the park asked her to 'say somethin' vulga', in a more gods-awful accent that Lucius had never encountered. Was he even speaking English?

And Hermione had quipped back with such wickedness!

They had taken the scenic route back to the hotel, going through a part of the park known as 'Strawberry Fields'. It was, as Hermione quietly explained to them on the way there, a war memorial of sorts dedicated to a man who had given his life and his art for world peace: a muggle musician by the name of John Lennon. They did not linger there, however, and Lucius thought he knew why.

The place was quiet… as quiet as an isolated section within a great city could be. And quiet was the antithesis of what she needed— what she wanted right now.

Distraction, it seemed, was the name of Hermione's game.

"Have you noticed she is no longer angry with us?" Lucius asked as he looked up from his position on the bed.

Severus had his hands above the frame of the door leading to the bathroom, torturing himself to Lucius's mind, with thoughts of her naked self on the other side. The both of them were physically bereft of her company.

Severus didn't even look up as he stated wearily, "Yes. She's occluding all her emotion and thoughts concerning us and the bastard. It seems she made a decision to make her holiday into a real one and avoid thinking about any _unpleasantries_."

"Hmm, yes." Lucius rose from the bed and went to stand near his brother. "And as such completely ignore her thoughts concerning us, and thereby avoid the conflicting emotion she feels." Lucius groaned. "At this point, Severus, she's got to realize she feels something for us?" Lucius asked a bit desperately.

Severus only shook his head, continuing to stare down at the floor. "Her power lies in intellect, not in heart. She doesn't trust herself, and this week has given her ample enough reason to doubt herself further. She's also quite thoroughly divorced from the emotion she feels… at my prompting no less."

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_So occlude it away, Ms. Granger. Isolate and sever the emotion you're experiencing from the thoughts you have. Emotion is of no use to you; you need to be precisely focused on the objective you're aiming to achieve._

Severus could really kick himself for telling her those words. Her objective now was simple: to run. Both literally and metaphorically. Severus said aloud, "I do hope you're not still harboring under the delusion that she will invite us to share her bed and thereby break this curse. If you are, I think you are bound for disappointment."

Lucius snorted, absently perusing the pamphlets lying on the table nearest him. "No, _mon frère_, I hold out no such hope, but gods, we just need her to go to sleep!"

Right as he said it, the bathroom door opened and Hermione appeared, her hair a riotous mane of curls, a bit of eye kohl and lipstick accentuating her features nicely. She was dressed casually-chic in tight, black-fitting muggle trousers that accentuated her feminine shape, a slithery silver top that did much to accentuate her charms, and as an afterthought, she summoned a black jacket from the depths of her beaded bag and placed it on the bed to grab on her way out the door. As both of them watched, she donned her boots, putting them on one at a time using the edge of the mirrored dresser as a prop. And as she did so, her arse was put on prominent display for both men to admire.

Severus's breathing stilled.

Unable to resist, he walked over to her, and inhaling her scent, placed his hand proprietarily on the exposed bit of flesh at her hip where the slithery little top rode up the slightest bit.

She stilled, straightening from her bent position.

Lucius too made his way over to her and, bending slightly, placed his nose nearest her neck, breathing in behind her ear. "Is this where you place your scent, dearest?" he asked quietly.

Her breathing quickened.

Groaning aloud, Lucius nuzzled at her neck, and Severus could see the gooseflesh rising from where he nuzzled all the way down from her exposed clavicle to her bared arms. Severus bent forward and kissed the other side of her neck, ghosting his hands down the curvature of her waist until she was fully held in his phantom's embrace.

She swayed, moaning, almost falling forwards but for the edge of the dresser that caught her at the hip.

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_**A/N:**_ And this is my grande finale of sorts, dear readers: an 'Updating Bonanza' if you will. This will be my last A/N until the end as this little tale of mine will be complete and available for you to finish reading tonight! I hope that doesn't disappoint anyone? As always, this authoress adores hearing from her readers, and would sincerely love to know what you think.

So, do drop me a line, won't you?

_**xxkattiaxx**_


	30. A Not So Happy Ending

Ch. 30— A Not So Happy Ending

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Hermione hissed in a breath and cursed. _What the hell?! What the bloody, fucking hell?!_ She rubbed at the now tender place on her hip, and cursed herself her inattentiveness.

Those thoughts, those feelings had come out of nowhere. One moment she was lacing up her boots, the next, her body felt afire, flooded with desire.

_Maybe the feelings weren't hers?_

The thought felled her like a ton of bricks. _They weren't mine._ Just as the feelings of peace and comfort she had experienced earlier weren't hers… …which meant that Severus —that Lucius?!

Her eyes widened in shock.

Could they possibly want her… _physically?_

Even as she thought it, she felt those feelings—the feelings that most definitely weren't hers— begin to build anew. She could see and feel nothing tangible, and yet, experience was telling her that if she only closed her eyes and let them lead her to the bed…

She took a step in that direction before common sense prevailed, and she turned pointedly away from the bed, and the wicked temptation it now represented.

She was going out dammit!

She was going out, and she was going to think on what all of this could mean.

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They had been walking for hours.

Up and down the city streets, block after block.

Severus was no stranger to working out one's feelings through rote movement—but the witch was showing no signs that she was even in the slightest degree tired.

Occasionally, she would drift into a muggle pub or club and listen to a few sets of the music playing there. But inevitably, someone would notice her, and both he and Lucius would draw nearer her, warding the next male to come her way to keep his distance. And she'd throw muggle money on the table and make her way outside. And that's when the process would begin anew.

So far, they had done this three times, and Severus had been privy to all types of music from horrid muggle complaint rock to classical music performed on a street corner by a rag-tag group of homeless-looking muggles to a stand-up comedic routine given impromptu in a bar.

It was now well past three in the morning, and the city—and the girl—showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

While back at the hotel, Severus had seen it—that moment of realization in her eyes! The moment when it donned on her that perhaps they wanted her _for her_. Lucius and he did their best to convince her, to lead her back to the bed, and show her this was the case.

And she had broke away from them and kept her distance ever since.

Gods, but she was torturing them! And she didn't even have a clue!

Anytime Lucius or he got too close, it would send her on the move, searching for another venue, another few blocks to traverse, and how Severus wished he could read her thoughts to find out what in Merlin's name she was thinking?

Alternately, her expression would morph from one of cynicism to wonder to doubt and then back to cynicism again.

_Gods! Just return to your hotel room, witch, and go to sleep! You'll never have cause to doubt again!_

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They finally made it back to the hotel room well after dawn.

Lucius looked over at Severus and cringed. If he looked half as bad as the former 'bat of the dungeons', then Lucius would never be able to show himself in public again. They were, in fact, closely resembling the muggle incubi of lore, looking less human as each moment passed.

They looked haggard and hollowed out, practically starved, and for want of a better word… insubstantial.

Now a full forty-eight hours had passed since last they fed, and every breath they had taken, every step they had walked with her had taken its toll as she had led them on an honest to gods death march.

The both of them had kept their distance as she worked through some of the emotion plaguing her, and Lucius could tell she had come to some sort of a decision.

And now, she was back in the accursed hotel room, and neither he nor Severus could stay away from her, not even for a moment. Not touching her, no, but following her around like her proverbial shades—the shades they were soon to become if she didn't fall asleep and soon. She was currently in the shower, the steam obscuring most of her from view, and Lucius tried to distract himself from thoughts of her by looking anywhere else—the bed, the view, the menu of services given by the hotel's in-house spa.

A thought occurred to him, and Lucius gasped, his eyes going wide. "Severus! I know what we need to do to get her to sleep!"

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After her shower, Hermione sat down on the carpeted floor by the window and greeted the day, taking in the beautiful view outside and the hustling, bustling cityscape below her.

She felt like a princess in her high-rise tower as she looked at the people scurrying below.

All through the night as she walked, she had thought about Severus's and Lucius's actions towards her this past week, and she tried to see it through another lens—one far less cynical than she was used to applying with both Master Slytherins.

What if… just what if they came on her vacation with her to profess their feelings?

Even now, the thought caused her to snort and shake her head.

But dammit, she had mentally gone over and over the items on her list, combing through them, and with the evidence that she had, especially in conjunction with the wet dream, the feelings of comfort, and how she had felt when the two waylaid her before she had left her hotel room last night, there was no other explanation that would suit.

She finally had to accept the old maxim: when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

And the truth was that the two of them desired her. And she…

She desired the two of them as well.

How firmly she had stowed away her crush on Severus… or so she had thought. How impermeable she thought her heart against Lucius's charm, convincing herself that they were friends—only just good friends.

This week had shown her different. Whereas her previous triad experience had begun and been based on years of friendship, it seems this time, both Severus and Lucius based their emotions on lust. But even as she thought it, she had to ask herself if that was true? Was she doing them a disservice in thinking that way?

She bit her lip and continued to think.

The three of them had years of friendship as well… not as deep as the bond she had shared with Harry and Ron, but still… they _were_ friends. Then again, 'friends' was perhaps too... _friendly_ a term for what they were to one another. Alright, so they weren't friends, but… partners? They were partners certainly.

They were partners in Lux Aeterna, and as such, treated each other with a civil, professional respect…

She winced. _Errm, that wasn't exactly true. _She treated—attempted to treat— Severus with respect and courtesy. He treated her as his house elf cum work slave.

And Lucius treated her as he would a kid sister… or at least, that was how she had always thought he treated her… until she applied a new perspective on his actions…. And this week had certainly given her cause enough for that.

Last night, she had felt it every time a man would begin to approach her at a pub or muggle club. Severus and Lucius would draw closer to her; their cloying presences almost suffocating in their intensity. And this left her with little to no doubt in how they felt for she could sense their jealous possession.

It was an ugly thing: that feeling. And the both of them had it.

She was not a _thing_ to be possessed, and this was an issue the three of them would have to settle immediately.

And alright, if she was being honest with herself, the thought that they were that jealously possessive of her was a heady one. The both of them—each a powerful wizard in his own right— wanted her?

She wouldn't do herself a disservice and ask them 'why?', but she dearly wanted to. Oh, how she dearly wanted to.

She was not special… not in a feminine sense. Lavender Brown she wasn't. She didn't have what it took to rend a grown man speechless with just a look. It wasn't one of her strengths, and she carried herself accordingly. She had hardly sought their attention, at least, in _that_ way. So… how could they see her in such a sexualized light?

It was a mystery.

And then there was the disparity in their ages. They were each of them old enough to be her father… Hermione massaged her temples, the thought making her head hurt. Was she what Michael had said? Did she secretly want them to replace the father she had lost?

And what if she did? Did that make it wrong? Was it something she could accept about herself? Was it something they could accept about her?

She buried her head in her hands and groaned. Ugh, but these were questions that would not be solved in a morning's session of introspection.

She felt someone—Lucius hovering at her shoulder. With her eyes closed, she could just picture him above her, crouched over her, his hair falling to the side as he inquired about her.

"I'm alright…" she mumbled through her fingers. "Still thinking."

She felt Severus on her other side. And again, she could just see him touching her waist, positioning himself in a seated position beside her.

Gods, but this was mental!

_Alright, Hermione, my girl. Time to decide. _

_Either they did this for some kind of sick, twisted Slytherin amusement… or they genuinely care about you and want to make a go at forming some kind of romantic entanglement. _

_Gods help the three of them…_

Working with the two of them was almost enough to drive her insane with frustration at times. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to date them… let alone sleep with them.

But wasn't it an intriguing thought?

She bit her lip and looked up, staring sightlessly out at the cityscape before her. How would it be, she wondered, to have both of them as lovers?

What would it be like to be the center of Severus's exacting focus? To be the one all of his concentration—his energy— was focused on?

Over the years, she had seen him create some of the most delicate and volatile of potions. The wizard had a deft hand for that which he saw of value, treating it with the utmost of care. Could Severus possibly see something of value in her? Could he, with his skillful, knowing hands coddle and mold her as he did the potions ingredients he prepared so well? Could he possibly be as devoted, as reverential to her as he was to the practicing of his art?

And then there was Lucius.

It was rare for the man to show it. But over the years, Hermione had seen enough of the blond wizard's caring, nurturing nature to know that this was what she wanted in a partner when she finally did settle down: someone to care for and notice her, to occasionally sweep a strand of hair behind her ear when she was busy hard at work, to give her a hug when she was feeling down or overwhelmed.

And Lucius had been doing so for years.

Gods! How blind she had been!

The both of them were so… _intense_. Could she hold her own with them?

She had been the bridge between Harry and Ron: the three of them forming a triad, and she had led them, told them what she liked, all but spoon-fed to them what she wanted and how she wanted it done.

The boys, after all, had always responded best to her bossy nature.

Forming a triad with Severus and Lucius was bound to be a different experience entirely. She bit her lip and looked up, blushing to the roots of her hair.

Did she have what it took to be the bridge between those two men? Was she that strong of a witch? Was she that confident in her abilities at seduction? Again, she snorted and felt Lucius's hand fall across her nape in a soft phantom's caress.

Again, this wasn't a question that could be answered in a day… gods but she would dearly love a massage!

That thought came out of nowhere.

And yet, she was suddenly aware of how tense and stiff her posture was as she was seated on the unforgiving floor, and how anxious she felt. Severus's hand fell across her back, and she shivered. The both of them—Lucius and Severus were once again touching her.

And apparently it was their will that she pamper herself a bit for the idea of getting a massage would not leave her.

She smiled to herself. Was what they asked of her so much? That she take time for herself, let herself relax? _And just whose thoughts were these anyway? Hers? Theirs?_ Gods, but this was confusing!

A massage would help sort it out. All she had to do was call the front desk…

She relented, throwing up her hands. "Gods, I give! I give! I'll get a bloody massage!"

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"I would like to make a reservation for a massage."

The words were music to Lucius's ears.

They had been working on her for what seemed like hours, whispering to her suggestive comments designed to get her to order a massage.

And finally, she had listened and relented!

Lucius had explained to Severus that the one thing Narcissa would tout more than anything in the world was a good massage. She claimed it was the only way she got a good night's rest, and that it always had a soporific effect upon her.

Perched as she was on the edge of the bed, Hermione was nibbling at that lower lip of hers, a sign of clear cogitation. They needed her to quiet her mind, still her restless thoughts. And at this point, Lucius would chant to the Great Ballyhoo if he thought there was the slightest chance it would work at getting her to have a rest.

Gods, but it was agony waiting for the masseuse to arrive!

There was a brusque knock on the door, and rising, Hermione answered it.

And thank Merlin's lucky stars it was a woman. Lucius didn't think he could, at this point, tolerate another man's hands touching her. His jealousy last night when men had kept coming up to her had been bad. With how ill he felt now, that might've sent him into a full-blown rage, and never mind how Severus would've reacted.

And the only person their rages would have impacted would be the witch currently standing nervously before them.

A tall, blond Swedish woman who introduced herself as Tilda came bustling through the door with a large plush-looking table, folding it right out in the middle of Hermione's hotel room.

Tilda it seemed was a take-charge, no-nonsense type who clearly loathed wasting time, and Lucius heartily approved. Brusque and direct was what the gel needed at this point.

"Good eftermiddag, little one. Take auff your clothes in the baffroom there, and put on a robe while I prepare your room." So saying the woman turned her back from Hermione expecting compliance as she opened the bag she carried and proceeded to remove an assortment of items from within.

Incense, candles, bottles of lotion. Yes, Lucius was more than glad Tilda was a woman.

Looking a bit at a loss, Hermione did as bid and went to the bathroom leaving Tilda to it. And Tilda did, indeed, prepare the room. The statuesque woman lit tall, pillared candles and a stick of sandalwood incense. She drew the curtains on the floor to ceiling windows so that the room was bathed in a soft muted light. And even as Lucius watched, she pulled another of the muggle music-making devices from her bag and plugged it into the television via a cord much as Hermione did in her motor car.

Lucius had a cringe-worthy moment of shame thinking that the gods-awful song was going to play again, but instead, there were the soothing sounds of Tibetan bells being expertly played. Lucius's respect for the female muggle masseuse grew in estimation as he listened to the soothing sounds, letting them resonate and calm him.

Throughout magical history, the bells had long been used as a means of channeling positive energies into the body and dispelling of the negative.

If ever Hermione needed that, it was now.

He told Severus as they waited for her to appear, "Hermione can feel us, our energies. We do not need to show her our desperation, Severus. She will pick up on it, and then she will never relax enough to let the massage lure her to sleep. I saw it in her eyes just now. Her eyes are tired even if her body is not. We need to surround her with thoughts of comfort, of peace. We need to let her know it's alright to rest. Can you do this, brother?"

Gritting his jaw tightly, Severus gave a terse nod, his sole attention fixed on the door separating the three of them.

Gods, but Lucius sincerely hoped Severus could maintain his control!

A moment later, Hermione came out of the bathroom, her hair gathered into a messy bun at her nape, and wearing the requisite robe… and nothing else.

She was blushing, and Lucius thought her blush was more to the fact that she knew he and Severus were there with her than to do with her own self-consciousness before the female masseuse.

"There, there, little one." The masseuse approached her and urged her towards the table. "Take auff your robe now." The woman smiled. "Never worry; it's nuffing I haven't seen before."

Biting her lip, and looking unsure, he saw her straighten her shoulders and release her lip from the prison of her teeth as if coming to a decision.

And taking a deep breath, she looked straight to where both he and Severus stood and let the robe fall to the floor.

_Ah, his brave gel._ Lucius smiled.

The masseuse immediately draped a sheet around her and said, "Now, lie down face first."

She did so, and Lucius went to stand beside her as Severus moved to her other side.

At this point, Lucius's hands shook for want of contact with her. The both of them _really_ couldn't stay away.

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Hermione felt Lucius and Severus hovering near her, and it caused her to tense.

Tilda tutted. "No good. No good for you! Breathe deep. Relax! This is first time you've ever had Swedish massage, no?"

She nodded, stiffening again as she felt the big-boned Swede place her lotioned hands on her bare back.

"Relax," Tilda urged. "This is to give you peace, makes you feel calm. Let me do my job, hmm? And you do yours. Now, breathe, little one. Deep, soothing breaths in and out."

Hermione did so, feeling her thunderous pulse begin to calm as the woman began to massage. Gods, but she had just disrobed in front of them! She could still feel their eyes upon her, knew they were there watching her every movement.

It was nerve-wracking…

And also a bit arousing.

Alright… more than a bit.

But she needed to stop thinking along those lines! Those thoughts were making her tense and causing her heartbeat to quicken. This was supposed to be an exercise in relaxation. After all, Severus and Lucius had all but ordered her to have a massage in their own phantom-like way, and they must have some reasoning behind it…

It hadn't occurred to her until now, but she hadn't been to sleep in well over forty-eight hours. It had to have been the energy of the nexus causing her to act this way. And she just hadn't noticed—had kept going—walking all through the night straight on through morning. And still, she didn't feel the slightest bit tired.

At least, she didn't think she did.

But Tilda's warm hands still continued to rhythmically rub and smooth away the tension in her back and Hermione closed her eyes at the feeling of being cared for and pampered.

She had never taken the time to do something like this for herself, and she had to admit, it was a wonderful treat. The woman knew just the right amount of pressure to use.

It had been one hell of a week, and she had been running on auto-pilot. Her 'battle mode' as Ron would have called it: the ability for her to study non-stop for days at a time before an exam, the nerve that had doggedly pushed her through the final battle, the mania that was keeping her body wired and her thoughts circling round and round in the same, tired stream.

Tilda continued to massage as Hermione came to terms with the fact that it was okay not to have all the answers. That sometimes it was okay just to 'be'.

With that thought, she released the tension she had been holding, and for the first time in days, let herself fully relax as she gave herself over completely to someone else's nurturing care.

"Oh, that's right, little one. Let it go. The stress and worry you feel. Listen to the bells," the Swede entreated softly. "Let them relax you. Relax and breathe."

Hermione did as bid, and she realized that once she had taken the time to check in with her body, she found she was quiet tired—both mentally and physically exhausted. Hadn't she done enough thinking?

Hadn't she run enough, driven far enough away from whatever fate had in store for her?

She was tired of thinking, tired of running.

She listened to the bells as her body went pliant under the woman's hands.

Distantly, she heard the masseuse say, "There. That's better. When I'm finished with you, you will be putty in my fingers."

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"We need some kind of formalized plan should this work, Severus."

Severus looked up from his watchful state of Hermione's progress. His hands were inches away from touching her. _Control._ He needed to remain in control! He said a bit frantically, "She is not going to remember anything we tell her, Lucius. And so words hardly matter at his juncture."

Lucius only shook his head and leaned forward until his eyes were on level with his. "Words _always_ matter, Severus."

The dark wizard tsk'd. "Fine. Explanations, then. Explanations do not matter. She won't remember them, and I'm not going to waste my breath explaining things once only to have to do it over again when the girl is conscious, and we're eventually back to our corporeal selves. Right now, I just want her to sleep. I want to feed from her dreams, and gods willing, give her a pleasurable moment of my company during the exchange."

_Oh, but she was so close!_

With every breath, every moment that passed, Hermione was getting deeper and deeper into a more relaxed state. Severus could practically _feel_ her consciousness shift. The masseuse continued in her ministrations, and he thanked the gods that she seemed more than passably competent at her job.

And then it happened.

He knew the exact moment Hermione fell asleep.

Severus felt a restraining hand upon his shoulder and looked up in desperation, so close to delving deep into her dreams—

"Slow." Lucius cautioned. "We do this slow, brother."

Severus nodded tersely in understanding, and as one, they reached for her.

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Hermione was surrounded.

She was enveloped in an embrace in the dark. There was no light, no sound; only the feeling of being held close from behind. Hands wrapped themselves intimately around her naked form drawing her still closer as another pair of hands drew her chin up to receive a kiss. The one kissing her stepped forward and sandwiched her in. Neither male bothered to disguise his need from abutting against the gentle swell of her lower abdomen and arse.

She knew the lips pressed against hers intimately. It was Lucius, and his kiss was a desperate thing—almost frantic in its hunger for her.

With a thought, a candelabrum was lit but quickly extinguished.

She tried again, but she heard Severus's strained voice whisper lowly in her ear from behind her, "No light. Just feel, little witch. Just feel." And his hands urged her to press back into him, rubbing up and down her sides, nibbling on her collar bone, rolling his hips and eliciting a low moan from her as Lucius continued his own teasing torment with his lips and tongue.

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Gods, but they were having to go slowly, much as one starving would sip a cup of broth. Too much imagery, emotion, and thought would overwhelm the system.

There was also the fact that they didn't want to startle her. Not in any way.

Lucius continued to sup from the gel, drinking in tidbits of her ardor, her passion. And oh but it was ambrosia to his senses—the sweet taste of her, the feel of her silky skin pressed up against his. Breast to chest, his erection straining against the gentle swell of her lower belly.

She moaned again against his lips, and Lucius clutched for her sides, encountering Severus's hands. He placed his on top of them, urging Severus to turn her.

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Severus wasted no time in doing so, instantly fusing his own mouth to hers in a searing kiss.

Gods, but he needed her!

_Now, right now! Where they stood. _

Reaching down between her legs, he encountered a flood of moisture and gently placed a finger inside her as she spread her legs wider to accommodate him.

Deepening the kiss further still, Severus felt Lucius preparing her, spreading the moisture Severus elicited from his finger's plunging quest. He felt her knees go weak, but Lucius was there behind her, keeping her upright between them. The three of them sandwiched tightly together in an embrace.

Bending slightly at the hip and readying himself, Severus prepared to plunge into her moist depth—

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"All done, little one. How is it you feel?"

Hermione awoke, blinking blearily into the candlelight.

_How is it I feel? _

_Unfinished. Incomplete._

She blushed. "Errm, it was… err... lovely. Thank you."

The woman gave her a shrewd, penetrating stare and nodded. "You fell asleep on my table. That means you are not sleeping enough. Drink lots of water: a massage detoxifies the body and clears away the negative energies."

Biting her lip, Hermione nodded, and the woman helped her rise and don her robe once more.

Beginning to fold up the massive table, and gripping the straps in an enormous one-handed hold, the masseuse grabbed her bag of oils and lotions and headed towards the door, leaving the candles and incense to burn in the corner where she had lit them. She turned back just as she was almost through it, and again, Hermione was caught in her knowing gaze."Enjoy the rest of your stay here at the _Athénée, _little one,and for goodness sakes, pamper and care for yourself."

With those words, the woman left, and shutting the door, Hermione closed her eyes, releasing a pent-up breath she hadn't even realized she was holding.

She remembered! And oh, how she remembered her dream!

Lucius and Severus, the both of them almost making mad, passionate love to her as the three of them stood pressed together in the darkness.

She felt the both of them at her side even now, urging her back from the closed door, drawing her back towards the bed, back to bed with them. She felt it. And not daring to think too much about her decision, Hermione relented, shedding her robe until she was bare, and walking towards the bed, slithered across the crisp, clean linens until she was in the center of the massive bed.

She pursed her lips and then confessed softly to the silent room the longing in her heart. "I wish you both were really here with me."

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	31. Wish Fulfilled

Ch. 31— Wish Fulfilled

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Hermione gasped in astonishment as she looked into the equally startled eyes of Severus poised above her. She found Lucius at her side; both wizards as nude as she and grasping some part of her. For Severus, it was her shoulder and her nape as if he had been preparing to dip down and kiss her. And Lucius had a handful of her breast, his mouth inches from laving its tip.

She opened her mouth, a torrent of questions flooding her mind, but Severus only shook his head and growled, "Later, witch. For now, just feel."

And Hermione closed her eyes on a gasp as she felt Lucius's lips close around her nipple while Severus's mouth descended on hers, and she surrendered to their embrace—their finally touchable embrace!

Lucius's knowing hands were doing wicked things to her insides, stoking her higher and higher in need and want. And Severus kept her engaged in other ways, challenging her with his lips and tongue, daring her to meet him kiss for frenzied kiss. He suddenly broke contact, and growling, nuzzled her neck as she shivered.

Lucius kept at her breast with his teeth and tongue, laving and licking her, moving his other hand until it was poised just above her sex. Feeling a tingling begin in her lower abdomen, Hermione opened her eyes and looked up. Severus had summoned his wand to him and was even now performing a contraceptive charm while she watched.

Trembling, she looked over to find Lucius studying her solemnly. "Hermione… is this what you want, dearest? Severus and I? If you want us to stop, we shall. If you want us to be patient while you think things through, we _can_ wait."

She looked up at Severus to find his eyes brimming with unfulfilled need, but he was waiting, seemingly holding his breath for her decision.

Biting her lip and looking from one to the other of them, and feeling more than a little overwhelmed... After all, it was quite one thing to wish them there with her and quite another to have them actually be there, appearing out of thin air—_FOR GODS' SAKES, STOP THINKING, HERMIONE!_ She chided herself._ STOP THINKING! _

"Yes." She nodded with certainty, clearing her throat. "Yes, this is what I want."

At her words, Lucius closed his eyes and bowed low over her, kissing the skin at her nape while Severus gave her a penetrating stare, scorching in its intensity, caused her to blush and her mouth to go dry.

Easing his way until he was lying down fully beside her, Lucius whispered softly in her ear, "Now turn on your side facing away from me, dearest."

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The logistics of a triad were so much different in reality than in dreams as Severus was quickly beginning to discover. Hermione was lying between them, facing him with Lucius behind her.

And even as Severus watched, he heard Lucius encourage her. "Relax, Hermione. Breathe in and out, love. That's right. There's a good girl. Now hold it." She did so, her eyes looking up at Severus in uncertainty. "And now, let it out but slowly." She did as bid, and Severus saw her gasp. Her lovely eyes went wide as Lucius filled her fully from behind; his course aided by the ample moisture produced from her arousal.

"We shall go slow." Lucius calmly told her, sweeping the heavy fall of hair away from her neck and nuzzling there.

She nodded, pushing back against him and reaching blindly for Severus in front of her.

Looking up, Lucius met Severus's eyes with a level stare. "We _will_ go slow at first."

Severus tacitly nodded his agreement, adhering to the unspoken command.

And reaching down, Lucius gently lifted her leg and rolled her until she was reclined on top of him, impaled fully as he lay upon the bed.

She gasped, her mouth opening in a soundless moan, and Lucius clutched her to him by her breasts, palming and massaging each adroitly, encouraging her. "That's it. That's my girl. You're doing so well, Hermione. So well, my dear." And Severus could see her start to tremble and quake above the blond wizard, little micro-tremors that had Lucius closing his eyes and gritting his jaw tight.

Severus could already feel himself approaching the precipice. Gods! But he hadn't even entered her yet!

_Unacceptable._

Giving her a poor showing, no matter his previous lack of sexual experience was unacceptable. Ruthlessly, he began to calm and center his mind, divorcing the emotion the image of his love being impaled from behind by his best friend and brother evoked.

The witch would come with him inside her. He would make her come moaning out her release.

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Hermione gulped to see Severus move above her. She bit her lip, already feeling more than full with Lucius inside her anally.

And Severus was big—much bigger than she was used to seeing in a man.

"Hermione." The dark wizard said sternly causing her to meet his gaze. "Keep your eyes on mine. I want to know what you're thinking, what you're feeling. I want your every thought as I make you mine."

_Ah, so no pressure then,_ she thought.

She saw him smirk. "Oh, there will be plenty of pressure, witch," Severus mumbled as he looked over her shoulder and nodded significantly.

And then Lucius's legs were parting while Severus lowered himself carefully between them. Her legs were then hoisted to his shoulders, and Hermione bit her lip, reflexively clutching at Lucius inside her in nervous anticipation. She heard him give a stifled groan, his hands clenching reflexively at her breasts.

Severus met her eyes, and she gulped as she watched him deliberately bathe his length in the moisture he found between her legs, lubricating himself. Still his eyes did not leave hers, and Hermione's breath quickened, her body trembling.

Positioning himself at her entrance, he thrust forward and impaled himself fully within her.

Hermione gasped, her mouth flying open in a silent scream as the force of her orgasm ripped through her.

She had never felt so filled.

Two sets of hands clutched at her as she continued to tremble in the wake of her climax, one at her breasts, the other at her shoulders— its grip bruising in intensity. Yet, even as she thought it, the pressure on her shoulders lessened as Severus let go.

She panted, and he wiped her now sweat-beaded brow, moving the bit of hair that had fallen across her cheek distracting her.

"Keep your eyes on mine, Hermione." Severus entreated. "Eyes on me and just feel."

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Lucius felt Severus slowly begin to move, the dark wizard's concentration—his exacting focus—centered on the witch between them. He was using legilimency to keep himself in control, and Lucius couldn't blame him, especially considering this was Severus's first real sexual encounter to date.

Of course Severus was also using it to find out just how much the gel could take. The both of them did not want to hurt her, and whereas she had been so accommodating in her dreams; in reality, things could be quite different.

Lucius put a hand on Severus's shoulder, keeping his other at Hermione's breast and felt the gel gather with the beginnings of another orgasm. Lifting his knees, he moved his hips slowly in counterthrust to Severus's movements, synchronizing, filling her fully on every upward stroke, causing the witch between them to gasp, her mouth opening in little breathless pants.

Oh, this would not do. Not at all! In her dreams, Hermione had been uninhibited.

And how well Lucius knew she liked to moan. His other hand left her breast, and unerringly found her nest of curls, caressing the little moist pearl within. Her legs began to quake and shudder where they splayed above Severus's shoulders, but it still wasn't good enough for him.

Lucius was after her moan.

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Oh, gods! It was almost too much for her to take.

Severus kept watching her, his dark eyes never once leaving her own. And every time she thought it was too much, that either she would shatter into a million pieces or beg them to stop, he would pull back his pace just slightly, giving her time to breath— to adjust.

And then Lucius began manipulating her clit, and Hermione closed her eyes at the varied sensations assaulting her. Movement lessened and then ceased altogether, and her eyes flew open in surprise to once again encounter Severus's stern stare.

"Don't. Close. Your. Eyes." he ground as he punctuated each word with a thrust of his hips.

Then he plunged, and she gave a startled yelp as his hips began snapping up and down faster and faster. Lucius held her anchored to him, one hand still ministering to her clit, plucking at the sensitive nerve endings.

"I want you to moan, my dear." Lucius entreated her softly, murmuring and nuzzling her neck. She whimpered. "Moan your pleasure. Moan for us as we push inside you." He snapped his hips as well, bringing them up sharply in counterpoint to Severus's piston-like thrusts.

Blindly, she reached back behind her, grasping Lucius by the hair as she reached out her other hand for the back of Severus's neck.

Another snapping thrust from both men, and she came with a conquering moan.

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Lucius rolled his hips, thrusting viciously into the gel as she rode through her orgasm. Oh, but there was the sound he was looking for: his triumphant, confidant, satisfied mate! Lucius let fly with a strangled cry, thrusting into the witch, spilling himself inside her while Severus continued to pound.

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The little witch whimpered and moaned beneath him, trembling with the aftershocks Severus kept giving her, and he was unrelenting in protracting all of their pleasure. She still kept her eyes connected with his, and Severus could read her every thought, the predominant being _MORE!_ and _OH, GODS! YES! PLEASE!_

From his periphery, Severus saw Lucius's eyes close and his head fall away as the blond wizard rode through his own orgasm, clutching Hermione tight.

And Severus continued his constant pound into her.

Her eyes implored his as he read her thoughts:

_Come, Severus. Please! I want to feel you come!_

Severus closed his eyes, immediately lowering the occlumency shields he had in place.

One more thrust, and with a strangled groan, Severus Snape came.

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Hermione watched, trembling with little aftershocks of pleasure and fatigue, as Severus bowed his head over her and finally sought his own release.

Gods, but the man was control incarnate.

She felt herself continuing to arc and grip the both of them from within, and Lucius growled, burying his nose in her nape. Severus was still bowed over her, his hair an inky black curtain framing his face, hiding him from view. With a trembling hand, Hermione reached up to move some of the hair out of the way so she could see his expression.

_Was he alright? Did she do alright?_

Her hand was deftly caught before she could touch him. Caught and kissed and then held in his own hand that was less than steady as he looked down at her. Severus's knowing eyes were still penetrating in their intensity.

He was still reading her thoughts.

"Never for one moment doubt it, my dear."

She blushed, having no idea if he meant it as a compliment to her that she did 'do alright' or that he would always be attempting to read her thoughts.

He only smirked, and with a wave of his hand, summoned his wand to him. Her mouth opened in a small 'oh' of wonder as she stared. _How did he do that?!_

Gently, he slid himself from her depths and lifting her slightly away from Lucius, waved his wand, and the three of them were clean and the bed linens restored properly to rights.

Hermione was slightly disappointed when Severus did not immediately lie back down in bed with them, but Lucius more than made up for it by turning her towards him and kissing her soundly. She heard Severus speak, and then he was back in bed, sneaking up behind her and drawing her into his arms while the blankets settled around the three of them.

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_Sometime later…_

Holding back a muffled giggle, Hermione asked, "He doesn't even realize he's doing it, does he?"

"He hasn't a bloody clue, witch. Listen." Severus pressed the 'resume' button on Hermione's iPhone. With the volume turned to its lowest setting, he began to carefully increase it as the song continued to play. Holding the device up in his hand, the both of them held their breath as they listened to the barely audible singing coming from the bathroom:

"We can dance if we want to. We've got all your life and mine. As long as we abuse it, never gonna lose it. Everything'll work out right. Say-hey We can da—… … … …SEVERUS!"

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The End.

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_**A/N: **_I sincerely hope you've enjoyed reading my story _Incubi_. My thanks go to all of you who have taken the time to read, and especially to those of you who have taken the time to follow/favorite/and-or leave a review.

This fic would not have been possible save for one very special person in this authoress's life: her husband. Ladies, if you're single, and looking for a man, look for one that will let you read your fanfiction to him ad naseum and then provide you with valuable insight!

If you find that man, HOLD ONTO THAT ROCKSTAR! He's a keeper.

And finally, it's worth mentioning there will be a companion piece to this novel.

Although I feel _Incubi_ can stand on its own, a sequel of sorts is already being plotted out in my very actively nefarious mind: one that involves the inner workings of Lux Aeterna, a muggleborn witch's ongoing struggle to find her identity, and the not-so-estranged wife and son of a certain blond wizard.

And I may also do a couple of one-shots along the way before I debut… so keep watch! :D

As always, dear readers, thank you so much for taking the time to journey with me in this very unusual but highly gratifying 'ship. And I do hope you had just as much fun reading as I did writing.

Until next time,

_**xxkattiaxx**_


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